Homeward Bound
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Bret Maverick and Ginny Malone were together when the Pinkerton agent got called in on a job. They parted company, with the man headed south and the woman headed to Kansas City. This is Ginny's story of what happened in Kansas and how she and Bret (with the help of his brother Bart) ended up together again.
1. A Difference of Opinion

Chapter 1 – A Difference of Opinion

"Arthur, you promised no cases for a while."

The man sitting across the desk from Ginny Malone winced slightly, a rather unusual move for Arthur Stansbury. Normally nothing got to Arthur but he had a soft spot for his best agent, the beautiful and fully capable woman in front of him. He'd promised her time off and had given her some, but not as much as needed or expected, and now he had to call her back to work. Ginny was a Captain for the Pinkerton Detective Agency, and Arthur was the Western Regional Director, her boss.

"You know what Bret went through and you swore we'd have more time." The Bret she referred to was Bret Maverick, her paramour and the love of her life, and he'd been gunned down and almost died in Memphis many weeks ago. Bret was a gambler, a poker player of some repute, and he'd assisted Ginny and Arthur on several previous cases. He was that rare breed, an honest card player, but his knowledge of and ability with the dishonest ways of poker had helped them considerably. He had a slightly younger brother Bart who'd worked on the same cases with them. Bart was a gambler, too, just as skilled and gifted as his brother, but it was the black-haired, black-eyed older brother that she'd fallen for.

And then Ginny had taken a case that needed attention in Memphis, and without her knowledge or encouragement Bret followed her and tried to lend a hand. It almost cost him his life. After he was shot in the stomach by Ben Newton, the man behind all the trouble, Bret had lingered between life and death for almost two weeks. Bart finally arrived in Memphis and almost single-handedly apprehended Newton, while Ginny nursed Bret through the worst of it.

After the case was closed Bart had gone on to New Orleans; Ginny and Bret were supposed to follow but went to Topeka instead, where Ginny handled a quick problem for Arthur and then was granted leave. Before they'd had as much time as promised, Arthur called her into the office, where she sat in front of him now.

"I know I promised you more time, and I'm truly sorry, Ginny, but I've got a case that needs your expertise."

She gave it some thought and finally asked, "Can Bret help?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not with this one. There's no way to work him in. It needs a woman, and you're the perfect fit. I can give you the rest of your time off after you've wrapped this up, but I need you on this."

Ginny sighed. Much as she'd love to say 'no,' she wouldn't. "Where and when?"

The answer was swift. "Kansas City, as soon as you can get there. You're going as Sammi Jo Withers, and you're going to work at Diamond Lil's."

"As?"

"A saloon girl."

XXXXXXXX

"A what?" Those were the first words out of Bret's mouth after she'd explained the assignment to him.

He'd sat and listened to her patiently while she'd outlined the situation to him, and accepted and understood everything until she got to the saloon girl part.

"A saloon girl – you know, a dance hall girl."

"A whore?" The tone of his voice was, to say the least, disturbed.

"No," Ginny stated firmly. "Not a whore. A saloon girl."

"There's usually no difference." He wasn't being snide; Bret had spent his adult life in saloons and found that to be, for the most part, true. There was no prejudice involved; this was the woman he loved, and he didn't want any questions about what she would or wouldn't do for a case.

Ginny watched him carefully – he'd known from the day they met that she worked for Pinkerton. She was a crack shot and could handle herself in most any physical situation she found herself in, but this one bothered him. She couldn't determine how much because it was impossible to read his face . . . he played poker for a living, and he was expert at hiding his emotions. Still, they'd spent so much time together that she could perceive the change in him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd disagreed about something, but this felt different. She sensed hostility and disapproval, and she chafed at the feelings it triggered in her.

"Doesn't matter what people think. I will not whore for anyone or any case."

"I know you won't. But men are gonna expect certain things . . . and I don't want you put in that position."

"I'm a big girl, Bret. I know how to say no."

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "I wish you wouldn't take this assignment, Ginny." It was a fervent request.

"I already did. From what Arthur told me about it, I'm the only hope he's got."

"There's no one else? What about the new hire in Chicago?" Bret was referring to Allison Parkway, who'd only been with Pinkerton for thirty days. "Arthur said she has real potential."

"That's just it. She has potential, not expertise. I'm the only one he's got who can do the job."

"And he's got no spot for me?"

The agent shook her head. "I already asked."

"What about me going with you and staying out of the case?"

"How long would that last?"

Bret flinched. Ginny knew him all too well. He had no part in the Memphis case, but stepped in to lend a hand and almost paid for it with his life. What were the odds that he'd be able to stay out of the Kansas City investigation?

"So what I want doesn't matter?"

"It matters a lot, and you know it. But this is my life and my job, and my choice. And I choose to go to Kansas City. If you don't like it, maybe you should find something to do with yourself. Go see Bart, or go back to Texas and visit your father for a while."

"In other words, go away?"

That wasn't what she meant at all, but the way this conversation was going, it might be best. "If that's what you want to do."

It wasn't what Bret wanted, either, but maybe it was a good idea. "When are you leaving?"

Ginny sighed. It seemed like the decision had been made. "Tomorrow morning."

"Fine. I'll leave then, too."

"You going home to Texas?"

Bret turned and headed for the door. Either he hadn't heard her or he was ignoring her; he left the room. As the door closed softly behind him, Ginny had one thought in her mind – _'I love you.'_


	2. Lil's

Chapter 2 – Lil's

"Ready to go?" Arthur asked unnecessarily. Malone once again sat in front of him, and he could tell her mood had changed since yesterday. Always happy and outgoing, she seemed closed off, almost sullen.

"Of course," she sighed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Arthur's voice softened. "Bret?"

Malone didn't answer at first. "He'd rather I didn't take this case."

Stansbury noticed how she'd phrased the remark. It had nothing to do with the place, and everything to do with the job. "Is he going with you?"

Her answer was quick – too quick. "No."

"And you have concerns about . . . ?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Is this just a saloon girl, Arthur, or is there more required that you're not telling me?"

"I wouldn't ask you to do something you didn't want to do, Captain. I've told you everything I know about the situation." It seemed all too simple on the surface. Young women were going to work primarily at Diamond Lil's, the biggest dance hall and saloon in Kansas City, and then simply . . . disappearing without a trace. It might have taken years to notice, but one missing girl's sister had gone to the marshal, and when he got nowhere she contacted Pinkerton. Another of Arthur's operatives discovered a disturbing pattern of disappearances before vanishing herself. That's when he'd called in Ginny. "If you don't want to go . . . I'll understand. Priorities change. Focus shifts. People come and go in our lives. What was important yesterday isn't as important today."

Ginny was staring at the floor while Arthur spoke. She looked up now and smiled. "My priorities haven't changed, boss. I'm still your best agent."

Stansbury returned her smile, a rarity for him. "Yes, you are."

XXXXXXXX

There was palpable tension in the room as Ginny prepared to leave. Bret was packed and had been pacing in circles for quite a while; he stopped now and watched her preparations. When he spoke, his voice was soft but filled with tension. "I'm headed south. Maybe home, maybe not. I'll decide as I go."

"If you need me . . . wire Arthur. He can contact me without arousing suspicion."

The gambler moved toward her but stopped when he got close, almost like he was afraid to touch her. Ginny closed the remaining distance and stood in front of him until he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Their kiss was wistful and gentle, full of longing and regret, and they broke apart reluctantly. "Good luck," he told her, and ran his fingers down her cheek.

"Bret . . . " she wanted to say more, but words failed her.

"I know. Me, too." Then he was gone, and she was alone in the room. They'd parted before, but she'd never felt this empty. Adjusting her shoulders, she picked up her bag and followed him out, into the hall and down the stairs to the train station. It was going to be a long trip without him.

XXXXXXXX

The distance was short from the train station to Diamond Lil's, and it was a good thing that Arthur had warned her about the size of the saloon. She'd been in some big ones before, but never one quite this enormous.

Ginny found the bar and the nearest bartender, a man of around forty, tall and muscular, who looked like he could take care of himself. "I'm lookin' for Red Mitchell. He around?"

"All the way in the back on the right. You the new girl?"

The agent smiled as if thrilled to be there. "That's me. Sammi Jo Withers. And you are?"

"Frank Carson, head bartender. Nice to have you here, Sammi Jo. Red'll be happy to see you."

Ginny laughed. "And I'll be happy to see him." She picked up her bag, sitting at her feet. "In back on the right, you said?"

"That's it. Welcome to Diamond Lil's, Sammi."

She took a good look at the place on her way to Red's office. Her first impression was correct, the saloon and gambling hall was enormous. There were two bars, the long one she'd stopped at and a second, smaller one towards the back. Faro tables and the roulette wheels were in front, with at least a dozen poker tables in back. Everything looked new and shiny, like it had all just been cleaned and polished.

Mitchell's office was easy to find – it had a sign on the closed door that read 'Manager – Private.' Ginny knocked and waited until she heard "Come in" before entering. The room was small and tastefully decorated; a desk in one corner with two chairs in front of it, a bookcase holding mostly ledgers, and a small table with glasses and two or three bottles of liquor.

It was easy to see where the man behind the desk got his name. Bright red hair and mustache, even redder than Ginny's, Mitchell was a man of medium size, both in height and weight. He wore black-rimmed glasses and an easy smile, and he stood up when he saw Ginny.

"Mr. Mitchell, I assume. I'm Sammi Jo Withers." Ginny offered her hand and they shook, then both sat down.

"Glad you could get here in such a hurry, Sammi Jo. We're definitely short-handed."

"I'm surprised, in a place that looks like this." Ginny paused before continuing. "I'm sure the money's good enough."

The smile on Red's face faded. "Hiring girls is easy. Keeping them is hard."

"Well, I'm glad for the job, Mr. Mitchell. I won't be leavin' anytime soon."

"Please, Sammi, call me Red." The smile had returned. "All of the girls live here; we have rooms upstairs for everyone. I assume that's alright by you? Good, then, let's show you yours and let you get settled. Then you can get started tonight."

Ginny nodded. "Sounds good, Red. And I'd like to meet everyone."


	3. A Flock of Doves

Chapter 3 – A Flock of Doves

"New girl got here today. Wait till you see her. This one'll bring top dollar, that's for sure." Frank poured himself another whiskey as he described Sammi Jo. "Tall, long red hair, built like there ain't no tomorrow. She's worth two or three others, all by herself."

"You sure this one is legitimate?" The voice was low and gravelly, like its owner had smoked too many cigars.

Carson stopped mid-drink. "Whatta's that mean?"

"You remember what happened with Anna Marie." Anna Marie Burton was a twenty-two-year-old brunette with a sweet smile and a face that brought men to their knees. She'd worked at Lil's for three months and seemed a prime prospect to be sent to San Francisco when one other bit of information about her came to light – she was a Pinkerton agent. Anna Marie disappeared late one night, leaving behind a note explaining she was homesick and returning to Montana. Arthur Stansbury never heard from her again.

The bartender finished his drink. "This one ain't no John Law. But I think we better wait a while before we send her to Frisco. Give 'em time to forget about the disappearances. That nosy sister of Betty's got the marshal payin' attention, and if we wanna avoid trouble we gotta make sure he ain't watchin' us no more."

"I agree. The next shipment can wait."

"Good. We'll let her get settled in. Maybe we can send more girls from Fanny Mae's or Letty's. If they've got any worth sending."

"The choices there are thin, at best."

Carson nodded. "I agree. But they're better than nothin', and it'll take the heat off us."

"Agreed. Go make friends with our newest prospect."

Frank set his empty glass on the table. "That will be a pleasure."

XXXXXXXX

The room was small and plain, but it was clean and private. Ginny was relieved when she discovered that fact; it was always harder to play a role under someone else's direct scrutiny. It didn't take long to get settled – she had minimal belongings to unpack. There was nothing of Ginny Malone's in her bag – everything belonged to Sammi Jo. That was the only way to stay safe, but right now she wished she had some minor belonging of Bret's with her. Something to hold onto for comfort, for reassurance in a moment of doubt. What was she doing here, playing another part, when the man she'd fallen in love with was somewhere between Denver and Texas? Why was she involved in a case she had no desire to be working on?

She shook her head and wondered just what had happened to her; she'd never second-guessed herself before. _'Do your job like you took an oath to do,_ ' she thought to herself. _'And stop acting like a love-sick cow.'_

She opened her door and wandered out into the hall; Red was slowly struggling up the stairs. "That was quick," he remarked as he made the landing.

"Easy to unpack when you don't have much," Ginny replied. She'd wondered why he had so much trouble with the stairs, but the reason became evident when he walked. He limped quite badly, and it appeared he'd lost his right leg. "I'm sorry to drag you up here. I didn't know."

Mitchell gave a small smile, trying to put her at ease. "I'm used to it. But it would help if you could knock on all the doors for me."

In less than five minutes the hall was full of ladies of all ages, shapes and sizes. They were laughing and talking, waiting for Red to introduce their newest member. "Ladies, ladies, we have a new employee. Sammi Jo Withers, this is Lilybelle, Bethany, Sierra, Carmen, Beatrice, Suzanne, Sugar and Mae. Billy and Georgia aren't here right now. Everyone, this is Sammi Jo. She starts with us tonight. When Billy gets back she can answer any of your questions. Thank you, ladies, I know you'll make Sammi feel right at home."

Ginny tried to remember everyone. Lilybelle was small and petite, with close-cropped blonde hair. Bethany couldn't have been more than seventeen and was a tall brunette. Sierra and Carmen were the same height and looked like sisters; Sierra had blue eyes and Carmen dark brown. Beatrice appeared to be the oldest of the group, and the largest, with black hair piled high on top of her head. Suzanne had red-gold hair and freckles, Sugar was short and a little on the wide side, and Mae was another blonde with long hair and a turned up nose. Mae was tall and leggy, and a favorite among the cowboys that came to Lil's to drink and gamble. Everyone but Mae gathered around Ginny, grasping her hand, shaking it, all talking at once. Finally, Beatrice shooed them all away and the hall soon cleared. Mae was the last to go.

"Come on, honey, let's go to my room and talk," Beatrice offered, and Ginny gladly accepted. On to the last room on the right, Ginny followed Beatrice in and was surprised by how luxurious it seemed. Silk drapes adorned the window and the bed covering looked like fur. Feather boas and beautiful dresses were hung everywhere, in every color imaginable. It appeared that Beatrice was well taken care of. "Have a seat," the older woman invited, and Ginny found herself on a rose colored boudoir chair.

"Where you from?"

"A little town in California called Devil's Flat, but I just came from Denver. What about you?"

"Oh, honey," Beatrice laughed, "I been here so long I can't remember where I started. You still got family in California?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. Mama and Papa are gone, and I was an only child."

"Well, you got a lotta sisters now, that's for sure. Listen, you need anything, you let me know. I can probably get it for you cheaper than the store – I know everybody in town. And a word to the wise. Don't turn your back on Mae. She's already given you the evil eye."

"I noticed. Was it me in particular or does she glare at everybody like that?"

Another laugh from Beatrice. "Nope. Only the ones that are prettier than her. She's afraid some of her 'admirers' will desert her and she won't make as much money. Everybody else around here's a good soul – they'd give you the clothes off their backs if you needed them. And if you ever got a problem, go straight to Red. He won't tolerate nobody causin' trouble for any of us. Frank Carson's the head bartender, then there's Alfie and Douglas and Will, and Harry works when they need him."

"I met Frank already when I first got here. Seems nice enough."

"He is. He keeps the cowboys in line, that's for sure. Alfie works days with Frank, Douglas and Will work nights with Frank. Yes, Frank works a lot. Red depends on him to take care of everything out front. You got a problem with someone that don't understand 'no' means 'no,' you go to Frank. He'll handle it. Work starts at seven o'clock. We usually close around three in the morning. You got a dress for tonight?"

"I do."

"Please tell me it ain't blue, that's Mae's favorite color and she'd have a fit if you wore it your first night."

Another shake of the head. "No, it's not blue. Anything else?"

Beatrice smiled at her. "Not a thing, darlin'. See you at seven sharp. I'll stop and get you."

"Thanks, Beatrice. I'm looking forward to it."

Ginny left and closed the door softly behind her. _'Dear Lord, what have I gotten into?'_ she thought, quickly followed by _'I hope Bret's safe.'_

At that exact moment, he was. Not that he would stay that way.


	4. Making an Attempt

Chapter 4 – Making an Attempt

The night went well; better than Ginny expected. Billy and Georgia were every bit as friendly as all the other girls, and it was easy to see why Billy was the 'den mother' of the bunch. In her late twenties, she was calm and logical, with an easy manner that could smooth the most ruffled of feathers, be they male or female. Billy was average height – certainly not the most beautiful girl on the floor, but serene and happy, and kept everyone in a good mood. With greenish eyes and long dark hair, she reminded Ginny of Mariel Stansbury, Arthur's wife. Nothing seemed to fluster or upset her, and she was able to deal with almost any situation that arose.

Georgia was a firecracker, petite and feisty, with silver-blonde hair and a ready smile. And she never stopped talking, making her a favorite out on the floor with the cowboys that were tired of talking to nothing but cows. Everyone appeared to be having a good time except Mae, who always seemed to be glaring at Ginny _. 'It's a real shame'_ , Ginny thought, _'Mae would be much more attractive without the look of contempt on her face.'_ That didn't seem to stop the cowboys from flocking around Mae, each one more eager than the one before for her attention.

When everyone came downstairs at seven o'clock, Ginny went straight to Frank for a discussion of her beverage of choice. "You a drinker or not?" the bartender asked.

Straight and to the point. "Not," Ginny answered. "You keep sarsaparilla back there?"

That drew a grin from Carson. "Yes, ma'am, we sure do. And we'll be glad to provide it for you. Have you met Doug or Will yet?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, not yet."

Frank turned his head and whistled, and the two bartenders made their way to the end of the bar. "Doug, Will, this is Sammi Jo Withers, our newest lady. Douglas Weary and Will Lambert. Our lady is a non-drinker, boys, so make sure you pour her sarsaparilla."

Ginny gave them both a smile, then shook hands. Doug was somewhere in his thirties, almost as muscular as Frank, and had an easy grin. Will was younger and slighter, with dark hair and eyes that reminded her of Bret. He blushed slightly when they shook.

Beatrice and Billy kept an eye on her all night and were right there if she had questions or concerns. Three o'clock came sooner than she expected and didn't realize how tired she was until she climbed the stairs. "You look like your wagon's draggin'," Billy remarked, and Ginny had to agree with her.

"It's been a while since I been on my feet that long."

"You'll get used to it again. You did real good for your first night. Go get some sleep. Alfie makes breakfast for anybody that wants it around ten. You want me to stop by and get you?"

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that. Right now breakfast sounds real good." Ginny waved goodnight and slipped into her room. She took her shoes off and sat down on the bed with a sigh. Within five minutes she was back on her feet, getting undressed while deciding who to investigate first. Mae was the most suspicious, but for some unknown reason Beatrice stayed front and center in her head along with Red, who seemed nice enough – but how much could actually go on around Lil's without someone in charge knowing about it? And if not Red, who? Frank Carson, maybe?

Ginny yawned as she climbed into bed. She really was tired and would have no trouble falling asleep. One more time she went over everyone she'd met, but the last face she saw before drifting off had black hair and black eyes, and revealed perfect dimples when he smiled.

XXXXXXXX

Bret had ridden a long way, and he was worn out. He saw the sign as he made his way into town: _Hobbs, population 245._ Right then he didn't care how big or how small the place was – all that mattered was it had a bed with his name on it. He left his horse at the livery and walked next door to the ramshackle hotel. Rooms were available and were plenty cheap, so he took one and headed for bed. He could take a good look around tomorrow and find out just what he'd ridden into, but for right now it didn't matter.

He'd intended to head back to Texas but changed his mind at the last minute and wound up here instead. He should be in Kansas City with Ginny rather than sitting in this dusty old hotel, but he wasn't, and by his own choice. What was he going to do now?

Best to get undressed and get some sleep. He did that quickly, laying his gun, as always, next to his pillow. As he burrowed under the blankets on the bed, the last thing he saw in his mind's eye before he drifted off to sleep was a stunning redhead with sparkling blue eyes and the most beautiful mouth God ever created.

XXXXXXXX

Ginny was awake and dressed when the knock on her door came. "Chow, Sammi!" she heard Billy's voice call, and was soon downstairs in the back dining room with Lilybelle, Carmen, Suzanne and Beatrice. Billy introduced the tall, balding man scooping scrambled eggs onto plates as Alfie, and Ginny took her place at the table with the few who'd shown up for breakfast. The coffee pot was passed around, and biscuits followed.

Ginny was delighted to find Alfie an excellent man with eggs and thoroughly enjoyed his food. "Why so few for breakfast?" she asked Beatrice, who was sitting next to her.

"Beauty sleep. Especially Mae. She never comes down to eat, just buzzes in later and grabs coffee. You never know how many'll be here, and sometimes Alfie gets stuck cooking breakfast twice."

"I don't mind," Alfie explained. "I'd rather be doin' this than pourin' drinks this early in the day. You just get in yesterday, Sammi Jo?"

"I did, and I must say, I'm impressed. Red's put quite an operation together here."

"Red Mitchell's one of the finest men I ever met," Suzanne, who was sitting on the other side of Ginny, offered. "A gentleman through and through. If you need anything, Red's always there for you."

"And a great boss. You'll like workin' for him. If Red's not around there's always Frank. And Frank cooks as good as I do!" Alfie laughed. "He's a good man to have as a friend."

"So what's the story on Mae?" Ginny asked Beatrice as she poured another cup of coffee.

"We don't know for sure. She ain't friends with any of the girls and keeps mostly to herself. Two or three times a week she goes somewhere alone but never tells nobody where."

"How long's she been workin' for Red?"

"Three years," Suzanne replied. "Beatrice hadn't started yet when Mae got here. She was a lot friendlier at first, too. Got along with everybody, never caused no trouble. Then somethin' happened that changed her whole personality. There was a shootout over a faro game one night, and Mae got caught in the crossfire. If it wasn't for Frank, she woulda died. When she came back to work she was different – moody, standoffish, hard to get along with. The only one she still talks to is Frank."

"Are they close?" Ginny asked, curious about the relationship.

"Friends, yes. Close? I ain't sure you could call 'em that," Beatrice stated.

"I think they're close," Suzanne offered. "Whenever you see her talkin' to anybody and it ain't a payin' cowboy, it's Frank."

Beatrice set her coffee cup down and thought for a moment. "Well, maybe you're right. Never gave it much thought. We just all ignore her." Just as Beatrice finished her remark the door opened, and in walked Mae. She grabbed a coffee cup and poured a full one, then turned and started back out the door. Ginny jumped up and stood in front of her.

"Mae, I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday. Can you stay and talk for a minute? I'd like it if we could be friends."

"Now why would I want to be friends with you?" Mae gave her a haughty look and pushed on past Ginny, out the door and around the corner.

Ginny sat back down. She glanced at Suzanne, then Beatrice, then chuckled slightly. "That was a waste of breath. I thought maybe . . . "

"That's alright, honey. You ain't the first one to get shot down; probably won't be the last." Suzanne patted Ginny's shoulder. "Me and Sierra are goin' over to the general store and see if they got anything new in we can use for dresses. You wanna come with us?"

"Sure, it'll give me a chance to get outside for a while. Beatrice? You comin' too?"

"Nope, not today. I got an appointment with a regular customer later. You take good care of her, Suzanne. Don't wanna lose somebody the second day they're here."

"Lose somebody?" Ginny asked innocently.

"Just a joke, honey. Beatrice is always kiddin' around like that. Come on, let's go roust that lazybones Sierra outta bed so we can go shopping!"

Ginny took a peek at Beatrice as she got up to leave with Suzanne. From the expression on Beatrice's face there was no kidding involved, and the agent made a mental note to question her new friend about the remark later.


	5. Different Directions

Chapter 5 – Different Directions

A week passed, then two, and finally three. Ginny's frustration grew as she made no progress on any front; she'd learned nothing new about Red, Mae was as cold and distant as ever and there were just too many of the girls who appeared to have no desire to form a relationship with anyone new in their midst. The only encouraging situation was her blossoming friendship with Frank Carson, and even that wasn't moving as fast as she'd like.

Beatrice might have been the oldest of the 'girls' but she was definitely the busiest. She had an appointment of one kind or another almost every afternoon, and Ginny found herself spending more and more time with the head bartender. Frank was friendly and helpful; he didn't ask too many questions and seemed to be interested in almost anything Ginny told him. Finally one slow Thursday afternoon she decided to push a little and see where it got her.

Carson had spent the morning taking inventory. Alfie was home sick and Ginny seized the opportunity to help; they'd worked for several hours before taking a break. Lilybelle made sandwiches for lunch and stayed to tend bar for the few customers they had; the men at the bar were happy to have a pretty girl serving them drinks.

"Feels good to sit down," Ginny remarked as she picked up her sandwich. "How do you manage to work so many hours and still look like you just got here?"

Frank laughed. "I grew up workin' on a farm. Sunup to sundown seven days a week. This is nothin' in comparison. What about you?"

"Nothin' exciting. Mama died when I was fourteen, Papa got killed not long after that. Went to live with a friend and started workin' when I was fifteen. Been doin' one thing or another ever since."

"No other family?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Not a soul in the world. You got any?"

"Got a younger sister in Arizona. Married, with a couple kids. That's all for me."

"What about Red? He never talks about himself."

"Don't take it personal. He don't talk about himself to nobody."

Ginny set her sandwich back down. "How'd he lose his leg?"

Frank took a drink before answering. "In the war. That's all I know – Red don't talk about it. Afterwards he came here to Kansas City and started Diamond Lil's. It was a little place at first, but he kept expanding it till it got to be the size it is now."

"How'd you meet Red?" This was the most talking Frank had done since she'd been here, and she hoped to keep the conversation going as long as possible.

"He was doin' the second expansion of Lil's and he needed a bartender. I went to work for him, nights at first, and just stayed. That was eight years ago."

"He depends on you for a lot."

"He's always made it worth my while." Frank was done with lunch and Ginny picked up the bottle on the table and poured him another drink. "Thanks."

"The first day I got here, he said somethin' to me about it bein' hard to keep girls. I never did get to ask him what he meant. You got any idea?"

Frank played with his glass but didn't pick it up. "We had a couple girls leave without any warning a while back. Betty Lou and Anna Marie. Betty went first, never said a word, just bought a stagecoach ticket and took off. Anna Marie quit a week later, but she left us a note and said she was goin' back to Montana. Durn near broke Red's heart, to lose two of 'em so close together like that. That's when he started lookin' for ladies to take their place, and we found you. Or you found us. Which was it?"

The story was all prepared and waiting. "A little of both, actually. I was in Denver lookin' for a new place when a friend of mine told me about Lil's. I'd heard all kinda things about Kansas City, so I wired Red and asked about the job. Next thing ya know, here I am."

"You never been here before?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, but it sounded like a good idea. I needed to get away from Denver."

"Trouble?"

"You might say that. A man that wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Denver's loss. So whatta you think of Kansas City?"

A little laugh issued forth. "I haven't gotten to see much of it yet. I'm not inclined to go exploring by myself, and most of the other girls aren't interested."

Frank saw an opening and took it. "Do you ride?"

"Just about born on a horse."

"How about goin' ridin' with me?"

"You practically live here, Frank. How are you gonna take time off?" Ginny asked.

"One word. Harry."

"I'll need a horse."

"No problem. How's tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me. What time?"

Frank pondered the question for a minute. "How about ten o'clock? We can go to Nelda's for breakfast, then I'll get the horses from the livery. I'll show you the city and some of the countryside."

"Alright. It should be fun. And I'll be glad to get outside for an afternoon."

The bartender smiled. He was finally going to have his chance with the magnificent redhead.

And the Pinkerton agent was going to have her chance with the man sitting across the table from her.

XXXXXXXX

Bret played poker the night before at Lollie's with Homer Danvers, Danny Fletcher, Remy Miller and Fred Barton. There was no doubt in his mind that Fletcher, the preacher's son, had spent the whole night cheating. He knew it but he couldn't prove it; it had been his intention to leave Hobbs in the morning but Danny's play was so sloppy, so brazen that he canceled those plans and decided to stay another night. That extra night would cost him dearly.

Within twenty-four hours Bret had publicly accused Fletcher of illegally manipulating the cards, had his Remington Colt stolen, and been arrested for shooting Danny in the back. At the prisoner's request, the sheriff sent a wire to his brother in Little Bend, Texas, explaining the dire circumstances and asking for help. Bart Maverick didn't hesitate and left for Hobbs, New Mexico immediately.


	6. Maybe, Baby

Chapter 6 – Maybe, Baby

"Flapjacks and coffee," Ginny ordered the next morning as she sat with Frank Carson at Nelda's.

"Same for me, but add bacon," was the bartender's request. Ginny immediately thought of Bret and wondered where he was. She blinked once or twice before forcing her mouth into a smile.

"What?"

"You reminded me of someone, that's all," was her answer.

"Alfie's back this morning, but I called Harry in anyway. That way if we're havin' a good time and come back a little later there won't be any problems." Frank was sitting with his back to the door, so he didn't see Mae walk in, accompanied by a distinguished-looking gray-haired man. Ginny did, and she let out a little gasp that caught Frank's attention and made him turn around. "Well, I'll be darned."

"Do you know the man?"

Carson nodded. "That's Grant Milton. He owns the Kansas City Palace Hotel and the Stockman's Royal Hotel, and several other businesses around town. He's on the city council, too. No wonder Mae never has breakfast with Alfie and the girls."

"So you didn't know about her and Milton?"

"Nope. But the cat's outta the bag now. That's who she's been runnin' off to meet. Grant was married until a couple years ago. His wife got consumption and went to Colorado Springs for treatment, but it was too late. She died a while back. I see he didn't waste any time findin' somebody new. I'm surprised he latched onto Mae, though."

"Why? She's certainly a beautiful woman."

Frank looked stunned. "Oh, there ain't no question about that. But she sure ain't in the same class as Grant Milton. If she's lookin' for a husband, she's barkin' up the wrong tree."

"Because she works in a saloon?" Ginny questioned.

"Because if Grant Milton's gonna marry again, he's gonna marry a woman that'll help his political career. Rumor says he wants to be governor. He can't do that with Mae Townsend for a wife. Keepin' company with her's one thing, marryin' her's somethin' else."

"Maybe she doesn't wanna get married."

Frank broke out in laughter. "Trust me, she does. And Grant Milton would be the perfect husband for her."

Ginny had to ask. "Why?"

"Because . . . " Frank stopped when Mae headed straight for their table.

"Hello, Frank, Sammi Jo. Nice to see you two out and about for a change." Mae's voice was friendly and warm, something she never was in the saloon. "Do you know Grant Milton?"

Milton addressed Frank before tipping his hat to Ginny. "Morning, Carson. Almost didn't recognize you without the bar in front of you. And I'm afraid that I haven't met the gorgeous creature with you yet."

The bartender let a small smile play across his face. "Sammi Jo Withers, this is Grant Milton. He owns several prominent businesses in Kansas City. Sammi Jo joined our family at Lil's almost a month ago."

"And I'm just now hearing about it? Miss Withers, very pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm sorry we haven't been introduced before." With a flourish, Milton took Ginny's hand and kissed the back of it. Mae quickly wiped a look of jealousy off her face.

"That's my fault, I'm afraid. Things have just been so busy . . . " Mae's voice trailed off.

"Yes, well, I shall be in the saloon tonight to remedy the situation. Miss Withers, Mr. Carson, enjoy your breakfast." Milton took Mae by the elbow and guided her to an empty table.

Frank turned to Ginny with an amused look on his face. "Now you've done it. You'll never have a moment's peace around Mae again."

Ginny was frustrated, believing the bartender to be correct. "I didn't do a thing!"

"Yes, you did. You're alive and breathing in Mae's world, and I'm sure she doesn't like it."

"Why would Grant Milton be the perfect husband for Mae Townsend?"

If Frank thought Ginny had forgotten the remark he'd started to clarify, he was mistaken. Before he gave her an answer breakfast came, and it was a few minutes until they were alone at the table again. Carson lowered his voice and explained quietly, "Grant Milton would be the perfect husband for Mae Townsend because he's too old to want children, and Mae can't give him any."

Ginny stopped her fork in mid-air with flapjacks on it. "What? How do you know that?"

He didn't answer her for a minute, and she wondered if he was going to. "You know about Mae gettin' shot one night at Lil's?"

The agent nodded. "I've heard about it, sure."

"And that she almost died?"

Another nod. "You saved her life."

"I saved her alright, but there's been many times since that she's let me know she'd have been better off if I hadn't."

"Why?"

Another minute went by, and when Frank answered the question, his voice was subdued and full of regret. "Because the one thing in life that Mae wanted was to have babies. And now she can't."

"Because she was shot?" Ginny had no idea how long it might take Frank to answer her, but she had to ask. She was surprised when he didn't hesitate.

"Yeah, and she blames me for it."

XXXXXXXX

They didn't talk about Mae again the rest of the day. Frank had quickly changed the topic and Ginny let it slide; it was evident the subject of Mae's misfortune was a painful one. Instead they'd ridden through Kansas City as the bartender showed her the town – Grant Milton's hotels, the various other saloons, the stockyards full of cattle, and the rapidly expanding community behind the business district. Once they'd seen almost the entire town they rode outside the city; first north and then west, where the grass was green and the stink of cows had faded from the breeze.

Frank was full of information about the town, and he made a pleasant companion. If this wasn't a case she was investigating, and there'd been no Bret Maverick, the bartender was the kind of man she might have found herself interested in. But she was working and, more importantly, deeply involved with the gambler, no matter how stubborn or difficult their relationship might be at times. It hadn't taken long for her to fall under the spell of those dark, black eyes and the slight Texas twang, and even with the way they'd parted she remained firmly enmeshed in his love. There was no doubt in her mind that they'd be together again, and she found herself daydreaming about the man she loved rather than the man she was riding with. She brought herself firmly back to the present and the sound of Frank's voice.

" . . . I always loved this little valley. If I'm real lucky someday I'll be able to buy land here and raise horses."

"You don't wanna be a bartender forever?" There was a slight tone of amusement in Ginny's voice as she asked the question.

"Nope. I wanna find the right girl and get married, raise horses and kids. What about you?"

Ginny had been giving the subject a lot of thought recently, but she kept her own opinions to herself and gave Frank Sammi Jo's ideas on the subject. "I don't know. I like pretty things, I never gave much thought to raisin' kids. I guess . . . with the right man . . . and I sure do love horses."

Carson smiled to himself. He was serious about buying land and raising horses someday. And the woman that was riding with him would surely make beautiful babies. Maybe it would be worthwhile to keep Sammi Jo around after all . . .


	7. Silent Partner

Chapter 7 – Silent Partner

It had been a pleasant day, but it had gotten Ginny no closer to finding out where the missing women were disappearing to, or so she thought. She had a suspicion that Frank Carson was involved, but no actual proof other than instinct. And she had no idea at all that he had begun to rethink the decision that 'Sammi Jo' would be the next girl sent to San Francisco.

When they returned to Diamond Lil's it was almost six o'clock, and the head bartender found a note waiting for him. _'I think it's time we had a talk, don't you? Meet me at the usual place after midnight.'_

Carson shoved the note in his pocket and poured a cup of coffee for Ginny. "I had a great time today," the agent told him. "Maybe we can do it again sometime? Soon?" There was an air of hopeful expectation in her voice – somehow she knew that the man she'd spent the day with had a connection to her investigation.

"I'd like that," came his reply. "How about Sunday afternoon? There's someplace a little further south I'd like to show you."

Ginny nodded. "That sounds great. We can take some food with us and find a place for lunch. And maybe some wine?"

"I thought you didn't drink?"

"Just whiskey," she replied. "I don't like the taste. But wine would be nice."

"Do you want to ride again, or shall I get a buggy?"

Ginny giggled, as she assumed Sammi Jo would. "Let's ride again. You bring a blanket and the wine. I'll get the food. Around noon? Or is that too early?"

The bartender smiled. His meeting at midnight was going to be interesting. "Nope. Sounds good to me. I'm gonna work this evening, so I'll see you at seven. And Sammi? I had a great time, too."

She climbed the stairs and was about to enter her room when Beatrice appeared in the hall. "You just gettin' in?"

"Yes, ma'am. We had a lot of fun."

"Get dressed and come on down here. We need to talk."

Ginny did just that. She put on the blue, low-cut dress she'd had made recently and brushed her hair, then headed down to Beatrice's room. "Come on in!" she heard before she could even knock.

"What did I do now?" Ginny laughed as she walked in and sat down on that familiar boudoir chair. Beatrice was getting dressed for work but stopped what she was doing once Ginny was seated.

"Heard you had a run-in with Mae this mornin'."

"I did not." The most pleasant greeting Ginny had ever received from Mae had been characterized as a 'run-in.'

"Came in early this afternoon and said you had yourself draped all over Frank."

"We were waitin' for our breakfast. I was nowhere near the man."

"And that you were rude to her."

That made the Pinkerton detective laugh. "I never said one word to her, not one. Did she tell you she wasn't alone?"

Beatrice sat down abruptly on the bed, a look of surprise on her face. "Nooooooooooo. Do you know who she was with?"

"Grant Milton. She even introduced him to us, and he announced he'd be here this evenin'."

Beatrice let out an audible gasp. "Grant Milton? Really? Grant Milton? So that's who she's been sneakin' off to see."

"That's what Frank said."

"No wonder. If she's been seein' Grant Milton, and he's comin' here tonight . . . "

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Ginny was confused. What significance did Grant Milton coming to Diamond Lil's have?

"No, but it means somethin' to me. Go put your hair up on your head that way you do. I gotta go tell Red that Milton's comin'." And before Ginny could say another word, Beatrice was out the door.

"I didn't know Bea could move that fast," Ginny said out loud. She left her friend's room and closed the door behind her. Why Beatrice wanted her to put her hair on top of her head she had no idea, but she stopped in her room and did just that before going downstairs to find out what all the excitement was about.

XXXXXXXX

Bart crossed the jail floor and leaned against the bars of the cell. The man inside the cell hadn't moved until now, but he suddenly came alive and met his brother at the bars that separated them. "You made good time."

"Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Somebody killed Danny Fletcher, and I got blamed for it."

"Why?"

"They killed him with my gun."

"Ooh. That could pose a problem."

The black-eyed man inside the cell did not look amused. "You think?"

"How long have you been in town?"

"Couple a weeks."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Two words. Ginny Malone."

"She went somewhere I couldn't go."

"Fight?"

"No."

"Disagreement?"

"No."

"What then?"

Bret shook his head. "Long story."

The younger man sighed. He'd gotten to New Mexico as fast as he could, and there was a lot he hadn't explained to Bret. It appeared he wasn't the only brother keeping secrets, but for now that would wait. "Tell me when this is all over and you're outta there."

"Agreed."

"Now, about that gettin' you out part . . . "

XXXXXXXX

"Are you sure?" Red asked incredulously. "Milton said he was comin' here tonight?"

Bea nodded just as Ginny knocked on the door to Red's office. "Who is it?" Red asked.

"Sammi Jo."

Beatrice and Red exchanged glances. "She'd involved in it, whether we want her to be or not," Bea stated.

Red nodded and called out, "Come in." When he saw Ginny, he looked startled but said nothing.

The detective picked up on his reaction almost immediately. "Why did you want me to put my hair up?" she asked Bea. "And what's going on?"

Once more Red and Bea looked at each other, before Bea answered calmly, "With your hair up like that you look like Elizabeth Milton, Grant's wife. I'm sure he saw the resemblance this mornin'."

"So? Why would that bring him here? And what's so important about Grant Milton?" Ginny asked the two people standing in front of her.

Red hesitated before slumping back down into his chair. When he finally answered, Ginny was taken by surprise. "He absolutely adored Elizabeth, but he hasn't been here for quite a while." Red stopped for a minute, and when he continued there was a desperate tone in his voice. "He's my silent partner. The only time he comes here is when he wants something."


	8. Fears and Tears

Chapter 8 – Fears and Tears

"He wants something? As in what, money?" Ginny asked. "Surely that's not a problem. Lil's must make a fortune every night."

"If he saw you this mornin' and he's comin' in tonight . . . he ain't comin' in for money."

"Then what?"

Red finally spoke up. "More than likely he wants to see you."

"Me? Whatever for? He's already got Mae."

Beatrice reached over and took Ginny's hand. "But Mae doesn't look like Elizabeth. You do."

"I've been here a month and you all are just now gettin' around to tellin' me this?" Ginny had a hard time keeping the anger out of her voice, and she pulled her hand away abruptly. She wasn't sure who looked the guiltiest, Bea or Red. She certainly didn't need any complications if she was ever going to find out who was shanghaiing girls from saloons in Kansas City. And Grant Milton was most definitely a complication. With one fell swoop she reached up and pulled the pins out of her hair, and the red curls cascaded down her back. "I ain't gonna be nobody's look-alike."

"I'm sure he just wants to meet you, Sammi Jo, and talk to you. Grant's been lost without Elizabeth." Bea seemed awfully certain of what she'd just said. Red didn't look quite so certain.

"He met me this morning. He doesn't need to meet me again. Tell him I'm sick or somethin'. I ain't workin' tonight." Ginny stood up abruptly and made a hasty exit. She went running up the stairs and slammed her door behind her. She flopped down on the bed and waited; in less than ten minutes there was knocking on her door. "Go away. I ain't comin' out."

She didn't expect the voice she heard – it was Frank's. "Sammi Jo, can I come in?"

Pulling herself up, she answered, "Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Then come in." She was sitting up by the time the door opened. "Did they send you up here?"

"Nobody sent me. I saw you runnin' out of Red's office and wanted to know what happened."

"I'm not goin' back down there. Nobody told me I look like his wife. That's just . . . creepy. Why didn't you say somethin' to me this morning when Mae introduced us?"

"You don't look like Elizabeth Milton, Sammi Jo. She was a redhead, too, but that's all. That's why I didn't say nothin'. Red's delusional, and Bea's just plumb crazy."

"But they said . . . "

"They're wrong." Frank moved across the room and sat down on the bed next to her. "She was nowhere near as pretty as you." And before Ginny could say anything to stop him, the head bartender had leaned over and kissed her. When Frank saw the look of surprise and bewilderment on her face, he abruptly stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her into a standing position before kissing her gently again. Ginny quickly pulled away.

"Frank . . . I don't . . . I'm not . . . "

"I'm sorry, Sammi. I know you're not like most of the other girls here. You just looked so . . . lost. It won't happen again – unless you want it to." Carson headed for the door, turning back for just a moment to tell her, "You don't look like Elizabeth. Bea and Red are wrong. Milton would have said something this morning; he has money and education, but he's not a subtle man. I won't let him bother you, no matter whose partner he is." He opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Ginny was usually prepared for things like what had just happened, but this one caught her by surprise. All she could hear in her ears were Bret's words from weeks ago. _'Men are gonna expect certain things, and I don't want you put in that position.'_ And her reply. _'I'm a big girl, Bret. I know how to say no.'_

XXXXXXXX

Things hadn't been going well in New Mexico, and Bart was worried. He stood outside his brother's cell and tried to decide just how to ask the question on his mind without antagonizing Bret. He needed to know, in case circumstances didn't improve. "Where's Ginny? If I need her for anything."

"She's undercover."

"Where, Bret?"

"You can't reach her."

"Bret."

The only sound in the air was that of a wagon moving down the street. Finally a sigh could be heard inside the cell. "Kansas City. Workin' as Sammy Jo Withers at Diamond Lil's." Bart added it to the list he'd been making. "You can't contact her, Bart. Not even if they hang me."

"I won't contact her. Especially if they hang you."

XXXXXXXX

Ginny changed dresses, putting on something less provocative, and went back downstairs. She stopped at the bar and told Will, "I need whiskey." Frank was only a few feet away and looked up immediately. She took the shot Will poured her and drank it down, grimacing as she did so, then turned her head directly to Frank. "I still don't like it." That brought a small smile to his face and she went straight back to Red's office.

Beatrice and Red were sitting exactly where she'd left them. "You're exaggerating. And even if you're not, I'm a big girl. I have no interest in the man." Without waiting for a reply of any kind, she walked back out into the saloon and headed for one of the roulette wheels. Things were beginning to get busy, and she intended to keep herself occupied until Bret's words quit ringing in her ears.

It was almost midnight when she noticed Carson was no longer behind the bar. She'd stayed busy all night but hadn't seen anything of Grant Milton or Mae, for that matter. And Beatrice had scrupulously avoided her, while Red remained closed up in his office. She stopped at the bar and told Will, "I'm goin' upstairs," before doing just that. Once inside her room she locked the door and braced a chair up against the doorknob to stop unwelcome visitors. She took off her dress and slipped under the covers on the bed; she was worn out and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

Ginny was more confused than she'd ever been on a case. She'd been in Kansas City a month and not one single girl had disappeared, from Diamond Lil's or any of the other saloons. Every instinct she had was telling her that Frank Carson was somehow involved, but she had not one shred of evidence to prove it. Something was off kilter about Mae, but whether the woman had something to do with the disappearances or was just a nasty case escaped her completely. And then there was Beatrice, Red Mitchell and Grant Milton. Beatrice was rich by saloon girl standards; Red seemed scared to death of his silent partner, and Milton? She didn't know what to make of Grant Milton. Or whether to worry about him at all.

And worst of all, she missed Bret. He hadn't wanted her to take this case, and she should have listened to him. He was right all along and it was only her stubbornness and foolish pride that drove her forward when she should have stopped. And what had happened to her so-called ability to say no? That deserted her when Carson made his move.

Where was Bret? She wanted to wrap herself in his arms and forget all about the cast of characters she found herself in the middle of. Maybe Arthur had been right. _'Priorities change. Focus shifts. People come and go in our lives. What was important yesterday isn't as important today.'_

The tears started to run down her cheeks and she couldn't stop them. She hadn't cried in years, but she sobbed like a little girl until there were no more tears in her. "I'm sorry, Bret. I'm so sorry. Please be with Bart and be somewhere safe. Somewhere out of harm's way." She let out a deep sigh and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that told her the man she loved was in trouble and needed her. She had to send a wire to Arthur in the morning. She had to know if Bret was alright. Finally, exhausted beyond words, she fell asleep.


	9. The Setup

Chapter 9 – The Setup

' _Mariel – Left my black dress in Denver. Please send it as soon as possible. Sammi Jo.'_

That was the telegram Ginny sent to Arthur Stansbury the next morning. She hadn't made any headway on any of the other problems she'd worried about the night before, but at least she could ask Arthur to check on Bret for her. She left the telegraph office and went straight to Nelda's for breakfast. She needed lots of black coffee and some time to think before she went back to the saloon.

Ginny was surprised to find Red sitting at a table all by himself. Much as she wanted some quiet time to think, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to try and pick his brain, especially after last night. "Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked politely.

"Please do. Up awful early, aren't you?" Red looked like he'd been up all night. He was nursing a cup of coffee, and it didn't appear to be his first.

"What about you? Have you even been to bed?"

Mitchell shook his head. "No. I kept waiting for Milton to show up, and by the time I realized he wasn't going to, it was past sunrise."

"What was all that about, anyway? Surely you can't believe that his sole purpose in coming was to see me? And if it was, what happened to him?"

Red stared into his coffee cup. "I don't know. I don't have answers for anything anymore. What happened to Thelma? Did Chloe really run off with that cowboy she was seeing? Why did Betty leave in the middle of the night? Did Anna Marie go back to Montana? What did Mitchell want last night, and why didn't he show up? And why am I sittin' here askin' you questions that you can't possibly answer?"

A waitress had come by and filled both of their cups, and Ginny took a big swallow before she tried to answer Red. "I don't know, Red. Maybe because you want some answers yourself and you don't have any?"

"I ain't the only one, you know. Fannie Mae's had a girl just up and leave one mornin', and Letty's lost two within a week of each other. Couple of saloons on the east side had girls go with no word of where, or how, or why. I know there's lotsa different reasons to go someplace new and start over, but this just seems too many. Course, I could be seein' things that ain't there. Maybe it's just my imagination gettin' the better of me."

Ginny was about to say something when the front door opened and Frank Carson came running in. He was out of breath and pale as a ghost, and headed straight for their table. "Red . . . you gotta . . . come back . . . to the saloon. Marshal Springer is there . . . waitin' for you."

Mitchell set his cup down. "What does Tom want with me?"

"It's . . . Grant. He's dead."

Red dropped his cup and coffee went everywhere. "I'm . . . sorry . . . "

"Go," Ginny told him. "I'll take care of it."

Five minutes later she was standing next to Carson outside Red's office door, which was closed. They could hear voices inside, Reds and one that Ginny assumed to be Tom Springer's, but not what was being said. Frank's breathing was almost back to normal, and Ginny had questions she wanted to ask. "When did you get here? I woke up early and went to get coffee at Nelda's. You weren't here when I left."

"Musta been right after. Springer came in lookin' for Red and I went to get him, but his office was empty. I checked all over the saloon and then ran to Nelda's. Surprised to find you with him." There was an edge to Frank's voice that Ginny hadn't heard before. Could he be jealous?

"I wasn't with him. Red was drinkin' coffee when I got there; I just joined him. He seemed worn out, like he'd been up all night. Said he kept waitin' for Milton to get there but he never showed. Did the marshal tell you what happened?"

A shake of the head accompanied the answer. "No. Just told me that Grant was dead and he needed to see Red right away."

The office got quiet and soon after the door opened. Tom Springer went past Ginny and Frank in a hurry; Red was sitting behind his desk looking grim. "Come in, you two. And close the door."

Nothing further was said until Frank and Ginny were seated. That's when Ginny noticed a liquor bottle and two glasses on the corner of Red's desk; both had been used. Mitchell directed Frank to get two mores glasses; when the bartender retrieved them Red poured them full, handing one to Carson. Then he turned his attention to Ginny. "You might want this."

She shook her head and waited. "What happened, Red?"

The saloon owner drank the shot of whiskey before answering. "The front desk clerk at the Stockman's Hotel heard gunshots in Grant's office sometime this morning. When he ran in to see what happened, he found Grant on the floor and Mae standing with a derringer in her hand, looking dazed. The clerk ran for the marshal. Mae swears she didn't shoot him, but Grant took two bullets to the chest and the derringer had been used."

Frank's voice, when he found it, sounded strained. "Mae? Kill Grant Milton? I can't believe it."

Ginny couldn't either; her first instinct was to find an excuse to see Tom Springer and, she assumed, Mae. She sat quietly while Red and Frank discussed what they were going to do next. Finally Red noticed how quiet she was and once again offered her the drink. "I think you better take this, Sammi. You look like you're in shock."

"I just . . . don't like it, Red. I'm alright, but I think somebody better go see to Mae, and it better be me. Since I'm the only woman awake at this point."

Frank spoke up immediately. "I agree, but I think we should send Beatrice."

"No," Ginny insisted. "She needs to feel like somebody's on her side. Somebody she wouldn't expect. Who better?"

"I think that's a good idea, Sammi Jo. See if there's anything she needs and tell Tom I'll be gettin' her a lawyer. Frank, wake Beatrice and explain to her what happened, then get her to tell the other ladies. Alfie can make an early breakfast. In the meantime, I'll be goin' down to Martin Dyson's office soon as it's respectable. He's the best lawyer in town, Sammi, and I'm sure he'll take the case." Red shook his head slowly and sadly. "I wonder what he wanted last night, and why he never got here? Maybe Mae knows somethin' about that."

Ginny bolted for the door before either of the two men could stop her. She heard Alfie call out to her as she slipped through the batwing doors and made her way up the street just as fast as she could. She had a lot of questions to ask somebody, if she could just figure out who to ask. The marshal seemed as good a target as anybody, depending on what his reaction to her was.

Inside the jail all hell had broken loose. There were five or six well-dressed men talking to each other; some of whom she recognized from Lil's. The room was full of smoke and it took her a minute to find Tom Springer; by the time she did everyone had gone quiet. A woman's sobs could easily be heard, and the marshal was trying his best to run everyone out of the office. When the last man had been sent out the door Springer turned to Ginny and in his most condescending voice asked, "What can I do for you, little lady? Say, didn't I see you at Lil's this morning?"

"You did, marshal, and I'm here to see Mae Templeton, but first I've got some questions I need to ask you."

"Now, honey, why don't you run on back to Lil's and let one of the men handle this? I'm sure Red will take care of everything." There was an underlying tone of disdain in the marshal's voice that Ginny had heard too many times before.

"Marshal Springer, can I talk to you for just a minute over by your desk?" the Pinkerton agent asked. The desk was on the other side of the room.

He didn't answer her, just sighed and made his way to his desk. Ginny turned her back to the cell Mae was in and lowered her voice. "Springer, you can answer my questions or you can explain to Arthur Stansbury in Denver why you wouldn't. Your choice."

There was no need to clarify any further, or to remind the marshal just who Arthur Stansbury was. In mere seconds his whole demeanor changed, as well as the tone of his words. "Yes, ma'am. What do you need to know?"

"I need to know everything you know, marshal, but not here. Can you meet me at Hoffman's Livery at ten o'clock? I can't take the chance of Mae or anyone else knowing . . . who I am."

"You ride?"

"I do."

"Good. I know a place where nobody'll see us or hear us. Ten o'clock at the livery."

Ginny turned back into Sammi Jo. "Oh thank you, marshal. I'd like to see Mae now."

"Why sure. You aren't carryin' a weapon of any kind, are you?"

Ginny giggled. "Of course not, marshal. Those things are dangerous."

"Well come on then, little lady, and I'll let you in with her. Maybe you can calm her down some."

"I'll do my best."

Springer ambled back over towards Mae's jail cell, with Ginny following him. "You got a visitor, Mae," he explained unnecessarily as he unlocked the cell and let Ginny inside. The blonde never even looked up.

"Go away," she said between sobs.

"You don't really want me to do that, do you?" Ginny asked softly.

"N-n-n-n-no," Mae stammered, and Ginny sat down next to her on the bunk and put her arms around the weeping woman. "I . . . I didn't . . . I didn't . . . not Grant!"

"I know you didn't, Mae."

"You . . . you do?" she choked out, and her crying slowed.

"You had no reason to. It was obvious that you loved him."

"I . . . did."

"Tell me what happened."

"I'm not . . . sure."

"What do you remember? Had you been with Grant all night?"

For the first time she looked up, right at Ginny. "Yes. It was my night off, and we had dinner at the Cattlemen's Club. Later we . . . went to back to his rooms at the Stockman. Sometime early this morning he went downstairs to his office, and I put on a dressing gown and followed him." Mae stopped for just a moment, to catch her breath. She let out a shuddering sigh before continuing. "I sat down on the settee and fell asleep, and didn't wake up until I heard the gunshots. I thought . . . I thought I heard somebody go out the back door of the office. When I saw Grant on the floor I picked up the gun. I don't know why; it was lying right next to him. I was confused, dazed, stunned. That's when Jerry ran in."

"Jerry?"

"His front desk man. He stared at me and I just stood there until Tom came back and took the gun out of my hands. He asked me what happened and I couldn't do anything but cry."

A clumsy setup, at best; nevertheless, still a setup. And as far as Ginny was concerned, the only question that remained was: who had set it up?


	10. Missing a Maverick

Chapter 10 – Missing a Maverick

By the time Ginny got back to Diamond Lil's everyone was up; it was just as chaotic as it had been at the jail. She went straight to Red's office. The door was open, and Beatrice was sitting with Mitchell. "Sammi Jo, come on in."

The liquor bottle on the desk had been replaced by a coffee pot and cups. "Can I have one of those?" Ginny asked, and pointed at the cups.

Red poured one full and handed it to her. "Did you see Mae? How is she? Does she know anything?'

The Pinkerton agent took two big swallows of coffee as she sat down. "I saw her and she's a mess. She swears she didn't kill Milton."

"Do you believe her?" came from Beatrice.

"Yeah, I do," Ginny responded. "But she has no idea what happened. She was asleep in Grant's office when she heard the shots and by the time she could understand what was goin' on it was too late."

"Marshal said she had the gun in her hand when he found her."

A small laugh issued from Beatrice. "Sounds like somethin' Mae would do."

"Mae said she doesn't know why she picked it up. I told her not to say another word and that you were gonna get her a lawyer, Red." Ginny finished her coffee with three more big swallows and set the cup back on the desk. "I'm gonna put some things together for her and take them back down to the jail. Anything else you wanna know?"

Red shook his head, and Ginny got up from her seat. "Be careful, Sammi Jo," the saloon owner warned.

Beatrice followed her out. "You want some help?"

"Sure, why not?"

The two women walked silently up the steps and down the hall to Mae's room. "I feel like I'm trespassing," Ginny remarked. As she opened the door, she was struck by how unadorned the contents of the room were. Unlike the palace that Beatrice had, Mae's looked more like Ginny's bare abode. A bed and a chair, with a small dresser and a single lamp. No fancy drapes, no brilliantly colored dresses, no overstuffed boudoir chairs. Just plain curtains and a worn-looking coverlet on the bed, all neat and tidy.

Ginny rummaged through Mae's small closet and found something more suitable to wear than a dressing gown, then grabbed shoes and everything else that the incarcerated woman would need. "Nothin' much fancy in here, is it?" Bea asked.

"No, it's not. Can you take these down to the jail? Mae wanted me to get some things at Wallace's General Store for her, and I'll meet you down there when I'm done."

"Sure, no problem. I'll see you in a bit."

Beatrice left, and Ginny hurried back to her own room to change into something more suitable for riding. Then she went to the general store as promised and picked up the two or three items Mae had asked for. By the time she got down to the jail it was after nine o'clock; Bea was in the cell with Mae holding up a blanket so the blonde could change clothes.

"I got what you wanted from the store," Ginny told Mae as the prisoner emerged from behind the blanket fully dressed. Malone handed the items to Mae and saw something in her eyes that she hadn't seen before – gratefulness and genuine warmth. "Red is goin' to see Martin Dyson, and they should be down later."

"Sammi Jo," Mae started, "Thanks. For believing me, and for helping. You didn't have to."

"Sure I did, Mae. Everybody needs help once in a while." Ginny turned to Bea, still inside the cell. "Got somethin' I promised to do. I'll be back at Lil's later."

She left the jail and headed for the livery, arranging for a horse and gear. Right at ten o'clock, Tom Springer appeared around back, and he and Ginny rode out south through the back alleys and outskirts of Kansas City. They didn't talk until they'd gone quite a distance, and then the marshal headed them towards a small, secluded cabin.

"My hideaway," Springer explained. "My chief deputy is the only one that knows where this is, and he's back tendin' the jail. Why didn't you tell me you were Pinkerton?"

"Why do you suppose? Not to be rude, marshal, but it's called 'undercover' for a reason. No one knows, and I mean to keep it that way."

"Is there somethin' I should call you besides Sammi Jo?"

Ginny shook her head. "That'll do just fine. Now, tell me what happened this morning."

"I was just makin' a pot of coffee when Jerry North came runnin' in. He was babblin' incoherently, somethin' about gunshots and Grant and Mae and I wasn't gonna get nothin' straight from him, so I just followed him back to Stockman's. Milton was face down on the floor of his office and Mae Templeton was standin' over him holdin' that two-shot derringer, cryin' like a baby. She looked like she didn't know what happened, and when I tried askin' her questions she just cried harder."

"Did you ask her why she shot him?"

"I did. That was the only straight answer I got. She just kept sayin' 'no, no, no, no, no, no.' Like she was tryin' to tell me she hadn't done it."

"Do you believe her?"

"How can I? Grant's dead and she's holdin' the gun that killed him. And there ain't no trace of anybody else in the room."

"Can I see the office, marshal?" was the next question out of Ginny's mouth. "I assume there's a back door."

"There is. You're welcome to, but I don't think you'll find anything. I searched the place already."

"What are you gonna do with Mae?"

Springer shook his head. "Danged if I know what to do with her. We ain't set up to keep women, but I can't just let her go. Not until I find somebody else to blame. And that ain't lookin' likely right now." He fiddled with his hat before looking in Ginny's direction. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You here to investigate the missin' saloon girls?"

"That's right."

"You gettin' anywhere?"

Ginny tried to answer as honestly as she could without giving anything away. "Let's put it this way . . . I'm making progress."

"You'll be sure and let me know when you've got somethin' solid?"

"I will." Ginny headed for the door. "Take me to Grant's office?"

"Yes'm."

Springer seemed to be right, there was nothing much to see in Grant Milton's office. Once she'd actually been in the room, Ginny had a better idea of how easy it would be for somebody to enter through the back door, shoot and drop the gun, then leave the same way they'd come in. Without being seen by Mae or anyone else positioned on the settee.

Still, the questions remained – who? And why? And was pinning the murder on Mae Templeton intentional or merely an act of good fortune? She found herself wishing that she could talk to Bart Maverick; he'd been a big help on every case they'd worked and had a keen and devious mind, often able to see things that Ginny hadn't yet spotted.

She returned her horse to the livery and hurried back to Lil's. It was time to push things forward if she was ever going to solve this multi-layered case.


	11. Ten Percent

Chapter 11 – Ten Percent

"I told you to make friends with her, not fall in love with her."

Frank Carson sat still and said nothing. It was about time he got something he wanted, and he intended it to be Sammi Jo Withers. That's what prompted him to take his most recent action, and he wasn't going to back down now.

"Do you know how much money we'll lose if you keep her? She's worth four or five times the regular fee. Women that look like her don't come along every day."

"I don't care. Send somebody else." His tone was defiant, hostile. He wanted the beautiful redhead for his own; he had no intention of shipping her off to San Francisco like so much meat. He didn't care one bit about all the girls they'd already sent halfway across the country, never to be heard from again. They were sold into 'brothel slavery' – to be used in the finest of whorehouses until they were old and tired looking, then turned out to make their way in the world alone. Those that wouldn't cooperate were addicted to drugs or alcohol or, in extreme cases, murdered. Carson had seen dozens of beautiful women vanish from Kansas City, and he and his partners had been well compensated for each girl that they provided. But he'd made up his mind – he wanted Sammi Jo for himself, and he intended to have her.

"Then we have to send them someone equally as alluring."

"Send them Mae."

A short burst of laughter. "How do you propose we do that?"

"Springer can't hold her in that jail cell. He'll have to house her somewhere, and it'll probably be back at Lil's. Once she's back there, we can ship her to Frisco. Everyone'll think she ran away to escape trial. Problem solved."

"Hmmm. That just might work. Let me think about it for a minute." One minute stretched into five, then ten before an answer came. "Alright, if Springer sends Mae back to Lil's for safe keeping, we can make it work. You get to keep your girl, and we still get a big payday. If not . . . "

"He will. Don't worry. And if he doesn't, I'll break her out myself. The redhead's mine."

Carson got up and walked away. _'That one's gettin' to be a problem'_ was the thought that followed him out the door. _'Maybe he's the partner that should have been eliminated. I've traded one problem for another.'_

XXXXXXXX

By the time Ginny got back to Lil's it was almost noon. She noticed the look of relief that passed across Frank's face when he saw her, and she went straight over to the bar to allay his fears.

"Where were you? Bea said you had somethin' to do but she didn't know what it was. I was worried about you."

Ginny slid her hand across the bar and grasped Frank's hand in her own. She had to remind herself to stay focused on her goal and not how different the bartender's hand was from Bret's. "I had an appointment with a dressmaker. I been waitin' weeks to see this lady cause she's supposed to be the best in Kansas City and I wasn't about to miss it. Wait till you see the new dresses. They're beautiful!"

Frank grasped her hand tightly in his. "Thank God that's all it was. I kept imagining all sorts of things . . . especially after the shock about Mae. Red went down to the jail with Dyson and they're tryin' to get her released in Red's custody. That jail ain't no place to keep a woman. Especially one that looks like Mae."

"I agree with you there. Listen, I need to go take a nap or I'm never gonna make it tonight. Can we have dinner together, say around five?"

A big smile spread across the bartender's face. "I'd like that a lot. You like Mexican food? We can go to Mama Rosita's on the other side of town. Great food and plentiful tequila. How does that sound?"

Ginny's smile matched Frank's. "Sounds great. It'll be good to spend some time with you . . . and just you. I'll be down later." She withdrew her hand from his and ran up the stairs. Hurrying down the hall, she slipped into Mae's room. She'd seen something there earlier and wanted to make sure it was still where it belonged.

Ginny tiptoed in quietly and went back to the third drawer in the little dresser. Buried amongst all the ladies undergarments was a small blue box, and inside the box was one of the biggest diamond rings Ginny had ever seen. Frank was wrong about Grant Milton. If he wanted to be governor so badly then he wouldn't have given Mae what was surely an engagement ring. Ginny wondered what else Frank was wrong about.

XXXXXXXX

Arthur Stansbury didn't like the word he'd gotten back from the New Mexico office. Bret Maverick was in jail in a town called Hobbs and was about to stand trial for murder. There was some hope; evidently his brother Bart was also in Hobbs. If anybody could get Bret out of trouble it would be Bart.

That didn't solve Arthur's problem, however. He couldn't withhold the truth from Ginny; she'd never forgive him if he did. And how did he give her that kind of news? What could he tell her about her black dress? This would require some thought. A lot of thought.

It was late in the day before Arthur decided on a course of action. He worded the telegram to Ginny carefully and prayed that she would be satisfied with the sketchy answer he gave her. _'Sammi Jo – Sent some things to my sister in New Mexico and your dress was among them. She'll forward it to you as soon as possible. Mariel.'_

XXXXXXXX

Carson was right about the food at Mama Rosita's – it was excellent. Ginny even indulged in a shot of tequila with the bartender, and at least one of them was enjoying themselves. Every time the Pinkerton agent looked at Frank all she could see was Bret, and she hoped the liquor would help her clear her head.

He'd talked about nothing but the horse ranch he hoped to have, and the family he wanted to raise, until Ginny had heard enough to make her sick. It became crystal clear that Frank Carson wanted Sammi Jo Withers to help him in both endeavors, and she had to find a way to steer him onto another topic. Finally she brought up Mae. "Do you think the marshal will turn Mae over to Red?"

Frank nodded. "Sure sounded that way before you came downstairs tonight. I hope that don't cause any problems with the other girls."

"Why would it?" Ginny asked.

"Might not want a murderer in their midst."

"Frank! I'm surprised at you. Do you really believe that Mae shot Grant?"

Carson heard the sound of distress in Ginny's voice and did some hasty back-peddling. "No, I guess not. But some of the ladies might. Could be uncomfortable for everyone."

A shake of the beautiful red head. "Too bad. Mae didn't shoot him. Somebody else must have."

"Then why was she holdin' the gun that killed him?"

"I don't know. Why do we do anything? Probably picked it up before she stopped to think. Who else might have wanted Grant dead?"

"You mean besides Mae or Red?"

"Red? Why would Red want Grant out of the way?"

"Silent partner, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Ginny did her best to sound confused. "How much of Diamond Lil's did Grant actually own?"

"Red told me once. Almost fifty percent. I own five percent. Red got tight for cash four or five years ago and sold it to me. Better that I have it than Grant, he said."

So Frank owned five percent of Diamond Lil's? That was something Ginny didn't know before. "What happens to Grant's share now?"

"If nothin's changed, I get another five percent and Red takes over the rest."

If Frank was involved in the girl-smuggling ring AND he owned ten percent of the saloon, he could more than afford that horse ranch he kept talking about. Ginny gave an involuntary shudder.

"Are you alright?"

"I am. Just a little cold. Can we head back to Lil's now? I want to see if Mae's there."

"You've gotten awfully worried about her, haven't you?" There was curiosity in Frank's voice, and something else. Uneasiness. Not about Mae, but about Sammi Jo's concern for the accused.

Ginny caught the emotion and tried to allay it. "I just . . . I just feel sorry for her, that's all. Besides, it's gettin' close to seven o'clock."

Several minutes later they were walking down the boardwalk, back towards the saloon. Frank had put his arm around Ginny, ostensibly to keep her warm, and she'd grimaced but allowed it. She had to play along if she was ever going to get anywhere. Carson seemed happy, and that's what Ginny wanted. Relaxed and comfortable, she was hoping that he'd let something slip that she could use. She also knew there was a kiss coming when they reached Lil's, and she steeled herself to endure it. There was nothing wrong with Frank's kisses, other than the most important thing. They weren't Bret's.

They stopped outside the batwing doors of the saloon and she turned to face the bartender. "Thanks for dinner. I really like spending time with you away from Lil's. I can't wait for Sunday's ride."

Frank bent his head, but before his lips could reach hers, Ginny heard a voice calling, "Sammi Jo! Sammi Jo!" It was Suzanne, and she came running outside with something in her hands. "Sorry, but this just came for you. I thought it might be something important."

Suzanne handed her a telegram and Ginny took it eagerly. It was the wire from Arthur. She read it through once, twice, and almost snorted in disgust. All it told her was that Bret was in New Mexico; what it didn't say was what bothered her. If there was nothing wrong, Arthur would have found a way to tell her. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and she pulled back from Frank's embrace. "No, it's not, but thanks, Suzanne. Just tryin' to find a favorite dress I left in Denver."

She smiled at Frank and hooked arms with Suzanne. "Let's go give some cowboys a good time." They walked into Lil's and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. She'd barely escaped kissing Frank, and now she had to worry about Bret. Before she could give that any more thought, Beatrice caught her eye. She was standing at the bottom of the staircase.

"Red wanted to see you as soon as you got back. Mae's upstairs in her room. The marshal released her in Red's custody. He's up there with her now."


	12. The Waiting Game

Chapter 12 – The Waiting Game

Ginny hurried up the stairs to Mae's room. The door was open and Mae was sitting on the bed; Red standing next to it. "Good, Sammi Jo, you're back. Mae wanted to see you. She has to stay in her room; I'm supposed to lock her in." Red reached over and handed Ginny a key. "I want you to have the other key. Just to be safe."

"You're sure these are the only two keys?" Ginny asked out of habit.

Red gave her an odd look but nodded anyway. "I'm sure. I think she'll be safer here than at the jail. Let me know if you need anything, Mae."

The blonde reached up and grabbed Red's hand. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and she still looked like she might burst into tears at any given moment. "You've been so kind to me. I'm sorry I was hard to get along with before."

Red brushed Mae's hair out of her eyes and patted her hand. "That's okay, honey, I understand. And I want you to know – we'll get you outta this. I know you didn't shoot Grant."

The saloon owner limped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Mae looked up at Ginny and managed a small smile. "I . . . I don't know what to say to you. I treated you the worst of all."

"Mae, now that some time has passed, I need you to think. What time was it when Grant went downstairs?"

"I'm . . . I'm not sure."

"What about you? When did you go down?"

Mae looked bewildered but had an answer. "About three o'clock."

"Did you fall asleep right away? Or were you awake for a while?"

"I was awake for a few minutes. I asked Grant if he'd be long, and he just kinda . . . grunted. So I curled up on the settee. I fell asleep right away."

Ginny sat down next to Mae on the bed. "And you never heard anything until the gun was fired?"

The long-haired blonde beauty hesitated. "Well . . . I thought I heard someone else in the room . . . like a body moving around . . . but I'm not sure. Then sometime later I heard the shots. Bang, bang, two right in succession. I thought I was dreaming and it took me a few seconds to open my eyes, and when I did Grant was already lying on the floor . . . bleeding . . . oh, Grant!" And tears started falling all over again. Once more Ginny wrapped her arms around Mae and held her until the sobbing slowed.

"What did you do then?" The Pinkerton agent asked softly.

"I . . . I kneeled down and looked for a pulse . . . there wasn't any. And when I looked up, the gun was lying right there, on the floor, like someone had dropped it . . . and I . . . I reached out and grabbed it . . . and stood up, with it in my hand. I started to . . . cry . . . and Jerry ran in and stared at me. Then he ran out, and I just stood there. I was frozen . . . then Tom Springer was next to me . . . and he asked me why I shot Grant . . . not if I shot him . . . why I shot him. And all I could say was 'no, no, no, no, no' and keep crying. I don't remember much after that until you came to the jail." That bewildered look reappeared in Mae's eyes and she asked quietly, "You ain't no saloon girl, are you?"

Let Mae think what she wanted, Ginny was not about to reveal the truth. "Yes, yes I am, Mae. My name is Sammi Jo Withers and I came here from Denver. That's the truth; that and I believe everything you've said. Your back was turned to the rear door when you were lying on the settee. Could someone have gotten out it when you were examining Grant?"

A small nod of the head. "I think so. Especially if they were already close to it."

"But you didn't hear the door close?"

"No."

"Did the marshal try to open the door when he was there with you?"

"Yes . . . no . . . I don't know. Wait, I remember. He did try, and the door was unlocked. Why . . . why are you tryin' to help me?"

"Because I know how you and Grant felt about each other . . . I found the ring he gave you. Its right where you left it, don't worry. And I know you didn't kill him."

"Then who did, Sammi? Who killed Grant and tried to pin it on me?" Mae sobbed.

"Shhhh, honey, I don't know. But I'm gonna do what I can to find out. There's something I need you to do for me, alright?"

"What's th-th-that?"

"Don't tell anyone your suspicions about me. Can you do that?"

Another nod of the head, accompanied by a faint, "Yes."

"Good. I'm gonna lock you in here for a while, but I'll be back. Is there anything you need while I'm gone?"

"Can you get . . . can you get me some coffee? With a shot in it, please?"

"I can do that. You just sit tight and I'll be back." Ginny gave Mae's shoulder a squeeze and left the room, locking the door behind her. She hurried down the hall, then down the stairs, and over to the bar. "Will, can you get me a coffee, please? With a shot in it?"

Will handed Ginny the coffee and she hurried back to Mae's room before Frank had a chance to talk to her. A knock on Mae's door was greeted with a faint "Come in," and Ginny unlocked it and handed the 'prisoner' her coffee. "I'll be back in about an hour. You stay right here, okay?"

Fifteen minutes later Ginny had changed and was dressed for a night of work. Before she went out on the floor, however, she went back to Red's office. The door was open and she walked in just as he looked up. "Sammi Jo, come on in. How's Mae doin'?"

"Pretty good, considering. I took her some coffee and told her I'd be back to check on her in an hour. Don't give anybody else the key to the room, Red. No matter who it is."

Mitchell nodded. "I understand. The real killer's out there somewhere. But surely . . . "

"Nobody, Red. Not the marshal, or Frank, or Beatrice, or any of the other girls. Nobody."

Red looked at Ginny in a way he'd never looked at her before. There was something in his eyes . . . but he said nothing, just nodded. Ginny went out to the saloon floor and straight to Frank behind the bar. "How's Mae doin'?"

"Not real well."

"How are you doin'?" There was genuine concern in Frank's voice.

"I'm okay," Ginny replied. "Have you seen Suzanne?"

"Yeah, she just went back to one of the poker tables." Ginny gave Frank a little smile and headed back to find Suzanne. She wasn't hard to locate, she was pouring a drink for one of the gamblers. When she finished, Ginny pulled her aside.

"What time did that telegram get here?"

"What?" Suzanne asked. "Oh, the telegram. Just a few minutes before you came back from dinner. Why?"

"And when did Mae get here? Who brought her in?"

"I don't know, Sammi. I was upstairs gettin' ready for tonight. Why do you need to know?"

"I'll explain later. Thanks, Suzanne."

Next she went looking for Beatrice. Bea was laughing and drinking with one of Kansas City's more prominent bankers at the roulette wheel and was none too happy to be pulled away. "I'm busy, Sammi Jo. Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't. I need to talk to you now."

Since Ginny hadn't let go of Beatrice's arm, the older woman was forced to follow the Pinkerton agent. "What do you want, Sammi?"

"You were here when Mae was brought in. Did the marshal bring her in by himself, or was someone else with him?"

"Why? What difference does that make?" Beatrice was not happy that she'd been forced to leave a paying customer for Sammi's question.

"Who brought her in, Bea?"

"Tom and Red. They were the only two with her. When they got here I went upstairs with 'em to help get her settled. Then when she asked for you I came back downstairs to wait for you and Frank to get back. What in heaven's name is wrong with you?"

"I'll explain later. Thanks for the information." Ginny let go of Bea's arm and headed for the staircase. The older woman stared at the back of Ginny's head before muttering _'damn'_ under her breath. Ginny went up to Mae's room and unlocked the door. Mae was lying on the bed, staring into space. Ginny locked the door behind her.

"What now?" Mae asked.

"Now we wait," Agent Malone answered.


	13. After Midnight

Chapter 13 – After Midnight

The Regional Director wasn't happy. Just yesterday he'd gotten the information that Bret Maverick was in jail in Hobbs, New Mexico and was waiting to stand trial for murder. He'd agonized all day over what to tell his best agent, working on the case in Kansas City. He'd finally sent a telegram that was vague and sketchy and then felt remorse the rest of the night for not being totally honest with her. And now this.

True, this was good news. Not only had Maverick been cleared of all charges, he and his brother had left New Mexico – destination unknown. The problem was it was late – very, very late, and Arthur now had to do his best to rectify the misinformation he'd fed Ginny Malone. To that end he tempered his frustration and set about to correct his mistake. He'd finally finished the new wire and had it sent, and hoped he hadn't alienated the person he'd come to depend on most . . . Agent Malone.

XXXXXXXX

Ginny spent most of the evening on the floor of the saloon, but every hour or so she went upstairs to check on Mae. Around midnight she finally found the blonde asleep and made sure the door was securely locked when she left the room.

During one of her visits off the saloon floor, Frank Carson had left Diamond Lil's. Not long after that Beatrice disappeared, ostensibly with a cowboy that wanted to partake of her particular charms. Ginny went to Red's office to talk and discovered his office door closed and locked. She went straight back to her room and located the Colt Peacemaker she'd purchased just two days before, made sure it was loaded, and spent the rest of the night sleeping on the floor of Mae Templeton's room. It wasn't comfortable, but it was a skill she'd acquired from Bart Maverick in Memphis when it was questionable whether Bret would live or die. When she woke it was just past sunrise and every part of her body was stiff and sore.

She got up slowly, stood and stretched, then went quietly to the door and listened. There was no sound in the hall, and she unlocked the door and walked out, locking it behind her. She crept down to her own room and got cleaned up; fresh clothes always made her feel better. When she arrived downstairs she was surprised to be the first one there; not even Alfie or Frank had made it in yet. Ginny put on a pot of coffee and waited impatiently for it to be done, then poured a cup and sat at a table.

She'd deliberately set a trap last night, and no one had taken the bait. _'Maybe it was too soon,'_ she reasoned, _'and I should just give it more time. Or maybe I suspect the wrong people. Or maybe . . . '_

Ginny drank her coffee and stopped second-guessing herself. There was really only one thing wrong, and it had nothing to do with Mae or Frank or Red or any of the other girls. There was a murder to be solved, and a kidnapping ring to break, but she was unable to give either of them her full attention. There was one thing on her mind, and that was the telegram she'd received from Arthur.

It was vague, deliberately so, and that could mean only one thing – Bret was in trouble of some kind. And Ginny Malone was having a hard time thinking of anything but the man she loved. She had two choices – either abandon her job, her assignment here in Kansas City, when it felt like she was getting close to a breakthrough, or ignore the knot in her stomach and let Bret fend for himself. After all, he'd gotten this far in life without her hovering over him. Much as she loved him and was worried about him, she had a job to do. And she was damn well gonna do it.

XXXXXXXX

It was almost eight o'clock before Frank got to Lil's. He found Ginny behind the bar, pouring another cup of coffee, and he grinned as he watched her. She turned around slowly and saw him, and a smile spread across her face. "Morning."

"Mornin'," came his reply. "Up awful early, ain't you?"

"I didn't get much sleep last night. I was too worried about Mae."

"Have you seen her this mornin'?"

"I took her some coffee a while ago. I think she's finally ready to eat something, too, when Alfie gets here."

Frank smiled at the girl standing behind the bar. "We don't have to wait for Alfie. Why don't I cook breakfast for the three of us?"

"Would you? That'd be great. I can bring Mae down to the back dining room and we can lock the door. Nobody else should be up for a while."

"Go get her. I'll get started."

Ginny ran upstairs to Mae's room, knocked and unlocked the door. Mae had gotten dressed, but that was about all she could manage this morning. "Frank's cooking breakfast for us. I'm gonna take you downstairs to the dining room, but you gotta promise me you won't try to get away."

Mae nodded. "I'm too hungry to run away. Is there more coffee?"

"Of course there is. Let's go."

The two women left the room and Ginny locked it behind her. They walked quickly downstairs, and Malone poured coffee for all three while Frank cooked. The smell was heavenly and they were soon eating bacon, eggs and biscuits. "Alfie was right," Ginny declared. "You cook as good as he does. You'll make somebody a fine wife someday." She smiled at the head bartender, and he beamed back. When they were almost finished the 'locked' dining room door swung open and Beatrice strolled in, a surprised look on her face. "I thought that was locked," Ginny directed at Frank.

"It was. I have keys. I smelled food and couldn't imagine Alfie cookin' this early. I didn't know y'all were down here. I thought Mae was confined to her room." Bea made it a statement and not a question.

"A girl's got to eat," Frank insisted. "There's plenty here, Bea. You want some?"

"Sure, why not? It smells too good to pass up."

Ginny poured one more round of coffee while Beatrice ate, and when that was finished she turned to Mae. "Time to go back."

Mae nodded and followed Ginny out of the dining room. Frank stayed with Bea and finished his coffee. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Bea ate, and he was startled when the older woman asked him a question. "What are you doin', Frank? Bein' a guardian angel and a babysitter?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, Beatrice. Can't afford to have the girl starve to death. Not if we're gonna ship her to Frisco."

"That's enough," Bea ordered, and the tone of her voice changed. "I told you never to talk business in this saloon."

"Yes, boss."

"Frank."

"When can we talk? We've got some plannin' to do."

"Tonight, after five o'clock. If you don't slip away for dinner with your lady love. I'll meet you in the usual place."

"And what if I do take Sammi Jo to dinner again? Let's wait until midnight to be safe."

"That didn't work so well the last time."

Frank gave a little chuckle. "This time I don't have to kill anybody."

"Don't be so sure about that. Red's gettin' awful nosy. So's that redhead of yours, for that matter."

"Uh-uh. I don't care how nosy you think she is, you're not touchin' her. We had a deal."

"We don't have a deal until we can get Mae out of here. Alive."

Carson chuckled again. "I've got a plan for that. I'll explain tonight."

"It better be a good one." Bea cleaned her plate and set her fork down. "I've got to get back upstairs. You just watch yourself with that little honey."

Bea stood up and headed for the door, tripping over a misplaced stool as she crossed the dining room. It caused just enough noise to serve as a warning for Ginny, who'd been listening to the exchange outside the unlocked door. The Pinkerton agent hurried back to the bar, where she started another pot of coffee. _'I was right about Frank,'_ she thought as she watched Beatrice walk up the staircase. _'But Bea sure had me fooled.'_ Now the next question became, how did she find out where the _'usual place'_ was?


	14. Another Way Out

Chapter 14 – Another Way Out

The second telegram arrived from Denver while Ginny was trying to figure out Frank and Bea's meeting place. She was upstairs with Mae when there was a knock on the door. "Sammi Jo, it's Alfie. I got a telegram for you." Ginny unlocked the door and Alfie handed her the wire. "How're you doin' up here? Do you need anything?"

"We're fine, Alfie. Thanks for bringin' this to me." Ginny unfolded the paper and read it over, feeling some measure of relief when she was finished.

"Good news?" Mae asked.

"It is," The Pinkerton agent replied. "I left my favorite black dress in Denver when I came here, and my friend Mariel accidentally sent it to her sister. Now it's on its way to Kansas City." The telegram actually read: _'Sammi Jo – My sister is two steps ahead of me. Your dress, along with a pair of your shoes, has left New Mexico and is on its way to you.'_

Ginny had to smile – the knot in her stomach began to loosen. She assumed the _'dress and shoes'_ reference tomean both Bret and Bart were traveling to Kansas City. It was the first really good news she'd had in weeks. Now all she had to do was wrap this case up . . . like that was going to be so easy to do!

"Must be a real special dress," the blonde remarked.

"It is. Oh my, it is." Malone slipped the telegram in her pocket and sat on the bed next to Mae. "How well did you get to know Frank when you got shot?"

"Why? Are you interested in him? Because he certainly seems to be interested in you."

"Yes, he does seem to be, doesn't he? I just wondered. Where does he live? He's always here at Lil's."

"He's got a little cabin just south of the city. If he's not here, that's usually where he is."

"South, you said? Do you know where?"

Mae gave her that look again, that _'I know you're not what you say you are'_ look, but made no further remark. "If you take Front Street all the way out of town, you get to a turn off that goes east about two miles. There's a sign that says 'Kansas City Three Miles' at the turn. Follow that down another mile and his cabin is off the road about fifty feet."

"Would Beatrice know where Frank lives?"

Mae brightened. "Oh, sure. She came out to his place a bunch a times when I was laid up there. I didn't have any place to go, and Frank took care of me."

"Frank said you blamed him . . . well, just that you blamed him for what happened."

"I don't, not at all. I never did. I can't imagine why he'd think that."

"Mae . . . about the girls that have disappeared . . . what do you know about them?" Ginny couldn't think of any other way to ask the question. Mae already suspected Ginny wasn't what she purported to be, but Malone needed the information and Mae was the only one she could trust.

"Not much more than anybody else knows. Nobody knows what happened to Thelma and Anna Marie. Betty left in the middle of the night, and Chloe ran away with a cowboy she was seein'. At least that's the story that went around."

"Do you believe it?"

"I might . . . except for Anna Marie. She left all her clothes and personal things here. No woman runs off on her own and leaves all her stuff behind."

Ginny nodded. "I have to agree with you. It does seem odd, doesn't it?" Anna Marie Burton was a Pinkerton agent. A fact that Frank and Bea had discovered, no doubt. Mae was right; Anna Marie hadn't left of her own free will.

"I have to leave for a while, Mae. I'm gonna let Red know I'll be back in a couple hours. Don't let anybody in but him."

"Sammi Jo . . . if you're goin' out to Frank's place . . . be careful."

"Now who said anything about Frank's place?" Ginny laughed. Of course, that's exactly where she was headed. She'd have to think of some excuse for being gone again. Right now her main focus was to get out of Diamond Lil's without being seen.

XXXXXXXX

They'd been traveling for days and it seemed like they'd never reach Kansas City, the destination that, by his winning a coin toss, Bart had chosen. Bret protested, but a deal was a deal, and they'd agreed the winner would choose their destination. They'd also agreed that, since they both had a story to tell due to their extended time apart, the winner would have to 'spill his guts' first. Which meant that Bart had the unenviable task of explaining to Bret how he'd been forced into opium addiction in New Orleans. And the long road back to physical and emotional health he endured home in Texas.

It took almost three full days for the story to unwind, and Bret felt guiltier than he'd ever felt for not being there when his brother desperately needed him. If it hadn't been for their father's intervention, Bret would be an only child – Bart's situation was that dire. "Bart . . . I don't know what to say. I shoulda been there. I could've stopped it before it got started. Instead I was off doin' nothin' to speak of with Ginny . . . I'll never forgive myself."

Bart shook his head. This was exactly why he'd been afraid to tell Bret what he'd been through. "Bret, don't do this, please. You almost died yourself – you needed the time to recover. I'm glad you weren't there, for your sake. How do you think I woulda felt if somethin' had happened to you while you were tryin' to save me from Matt Langford?"

Bret kept staring at the ground while they rode. He couldn't help it . . . if Bart had died . . . and he came oh-so-close to doing just that . . . he would have blamed himself for the rest of his life. Maybe his separation from Ginny was a good thing after all. Maybe it was fate trying to tell him something . . . it was the sound of his brother's voice that brought him back to the present.

"So that's my tale. Now you know why I slacked off for a while on the coffee, and I'm hopin' that this whole thing is behind me. Sure does answer a lotta questions about where that deep-seated anger of mine came from." Bart glanced sideways at Bret and noticed that his head was still down; it looked like his brother was wrestling with some of his own demons, although Bart would be hard-pressed to understand just what demons Bret might have. "How about you? What happened between you and Beauty? And why is she in Kansas City alone and posin' as Sammi Jo Whoever?"

Bret sighed. Looked like the rest of his demon-wrestling was gonna have to be done out in the open. "It started when Arthur called Ginny into his office . . . "

XXXXXXXX

Getting away from Lil's was easier said than done. Ginny slipped down the staircase and high-tailed it into Red's office, where she found him looking over a ledger and frowning. "I need your help, boss."

He looked up and smiled. Sammi Jo, or whoever she really was, brightened his day considerably when she appeared. "Anything you need, Sammi."

"Is there another way out of Lil's that I don't know about?"

"You need to leave and you're avoiding . . . ?"

"A couple people. Please don't ask who or why. I promise to tell you soon as I can. Now, about that other way out . . . "

"The storage room where the liquor's kept. There's a locked door and I've got the key. You need to go right now?" Red pulled his desk drawer open and gave Ginny a small gold key.

"Right this minute. Can you keep them occupied out front for a while?" Ginny was grateful for Red's help. Suzanne had been right when she told Ginny he was one of the finest men she'd ever met.

"I can do that. Give me five minutes and then head on back there. You will be back today, won't you?"

"Sure will. Thanks, boss." And she leaned across the desk and planted a kiss on Red's cheek, which caused Mitchell to turn as bright a shade of red as his hair.

"Go. Shoo," he told her, rising from his desk and heading out the door. She heard him calling as she slipped out of his office and back towards the storage room, "Frank, Alfie, can I see you both at the bar, please?"


	15. Good Advice

Chapter 15 – Good Advice

Red did an excellent job of distraction – Ginny got out of Lil's through the back door in the liquor storage room with no problem. In just a few minutes she had a horse and she was on her way, following the directions Mae had given her. It took less than twenty minutes to find the spot where the cabin should be – the only problem was, Ginny couldn't find anything that resembled what she was looking for. She finally dismounted and went searching on foot. Behind the thickest stand of beech and oak saplings she had ever seen, the Pinkerton agent eventually located the cabin. Frank had done an excellent job of hiding his home.

There was no sign of anyone, so she took her time and looked around. The cabin wasn't very large, but it seemed well-constructed. This had to be 'the usual place' where Frank and Beatrice met; Bea had nothing but a room at Diamond Lil's. There was a window in front and a medium-sized window next to the back door; Ginny broke a hole in the window in back. The door was locked from the inside. Once she'd determined the best place to leave her horse tonight when she arrived, she broke off a branch from one of the saplings and erased her footprints. It would be almost impossible to see anything at midnight, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

She rode back to town and made arrangements for the horse she'd been using to be saddled and ready to go at eleven o'clock. Then she hurried back to Lil's and unlocked the storage room door, slipping inside without being seen. She grabbed a bottle of brandy and walked onto the floor of the saloon, taking the bottle straight to Frank.

"Mae wants some brandy, but I'm not about to take the bottle up there to her. God only knows what she'd do with it. Can you pour me a glass and then hold the bottle aside?"

"So that's where you disappeared to," Frank remarked.

"Yep, that's me, jail guard. Soon as I take this to her I'm goin' back to my room, in case you need me for anything."

"Sammi . . . how about dinner tonight?"

Ginny was trapped between her desire to make sure Frank was too busy to meet with Beatrice before midnight and the thought of having to endure another meal with him. The detective won the debate. "I'd love to, Frank. Same time?"

The bartender grinned, pleased that he seemed to be getting closer to Sammi Jo. "Five o'clock is good for me if it's okay with you. How does steak sound?"

"It sounds delicious, " Ginny had to admit. "You have a place in mind?"

"I do. The Cattlemen's Club."

Ginny grimaced. "Ain't that awful fancy for you and me?"

"Nothing's too fancy for you, Sammi. I've been there before, and the food is outstanding. Wear that long black dress you've got – you'll be the best lookin' woman there."

Ginny sighed. She was going to have to endure the kind of evening she only spent with Bret – with a man that wasn't Bret. She picked up the glass of brandy and forced a smile. "Five o'clock. I'll be ready."

XXXXXXXX

They'd made camp and cooked their dinner, then finally gone to bed. Bart fell asleep, but Bret was still 'wrestling with his demons' and sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. They'd be in Kansas City in two days at the most, and he didn't know what he was going to say to Ginny. He must have made more noise than he thought because a sleepy voice asked, "You gonna do that all night?"

"Do what all night?"

"Mumble to yourself."

"Sorry, I didn't know I was."

"That don't answer my question." He didn't have to look at his brother to know that Bart had turned over and was now facing Bret. "What's botherin' you?" There was no immediate answer, and Bart asked, "Beauty?"

"Yeah," Bret answered, surprisingly. "She deserves somebody better than me."

"Two things," Bart replied, yawning. "Ain't nobody better than you. And it's you she loves, not somebody else."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I spent almost two solid weeks with her in Memphis. Day and night, while we waited to see if you was gonna stop hoverin' and come back to us."

"Hovering?"

"That's what Doc Wheeler called it. Hoverin'. Not bein' able to choose between life and death. Glad you decided eventually to stay."

"And Ginny?"

"Wouldn't leave your side. Didn't eat, didn't sleep; she even sang to you. Anything to stay in touch and let you know she was there. Slept on the floor, too, most of the time."

A small chuckle was heard. "I can't imagine Ginny Malone sleepin' on the floor."

Bart wearily closed his eyes. He really wanted to sleep, but it was apparent that his brother needed to talk this out. "You can't imagine a lot of things that woman did to take care of you. You could look for a hundred years and never find one that would love you that much."

The older brother snorted. "You sound like you're half in love with her yourself."

The answer was swift. "I am, but not the way you mean. She ain't got room in her life for anyone but you, whether you can see it or not."

"Then why'd she defy me and take this job?"

"Defy you? DEFY YOU? You ain't Arthur Stansbury – and he's the only one's got any right to give her orders. I'd have done the same thing, if you'd ordered me the way you tried to order her."

"I didn't . . . hell, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't order her, I tried to persuade her."

"The way you try to persuade me?"

"Well . . . you may have a point."

Bart sat up, now fully awake. "How many times you been in love in your life? Two, three?"

"Maybe."

"Ain't you learned nothin'? You don't persuade a woman about anything. Especially a woman like that. You'da been better off keepin' your mouth shut and comin' back to Texas. At the very least you wouldn't a been sittin' in a jail cell in Hobbs waitin' to hang."

Bret could tell from the pronounced twang in Bart's voice that he was irritated beyond measure. This was getting them nowhere. "Alright. I know you're right. I just . . . worry about her, that's all."

"The way she worries about you."

"Yeah."

"That don't stop you from doin' what you damn sure please, does it?"

Bart had a point. This was no ordinary woman. This was an accomplished Pinkerton agent; he'd seen her shot, stabbed, beaten up and generally abused, and she was still the most alluring creature he'd ever laid eyes on. With a spirit no one seemed able to break. Maybe he expected too much out of her . . . out of them. Maybe it was time he learned to accept her at face value and just . . . love her.

"No, I guess it doesn't. But what am I . . . ?"

"Supposed to do? Nothin', Bret. Don't do nothin'. Just love her, and thank God every day that she loves you back."

Almost five minutes passed while Bret mulled over everything Bart told him. Finally, he spoke. "I hate to admit this – but I think you're right."

Bart breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe there was hope for some sleep after all. And maybe Bret's demons would settle down and behave themselves. "Of course I'm right. I had an excellent teacher, Pappy."

Bret smiled. Sometimes even little brothers gave good advice.


	16. Captain Malone

Chapter 16 – Captain Malone

Dinner at the Cattlemen's Club was both a delight and an ordeal. Ginny hadn't had a steak in so long she'd almost forgotten what they tasted like; and then there was the matter of Frank. It was easier to be bright and pleasant before she knew he was one of the partners in the kidnapping scheme, and the idea that this 'slave trader' had fallen for her made him even more unappetizing. She'd played roles before that were distasteful, but this one was doubly so.

Frank made another attempt to kiss her when they returned to Lil's, and she saw no way around it. The man knew how to kiss . . . but that didn't make this one any more appealing. She struggled to suppress a shudder. "Sammi Jo . . . there's somethin' I've wanted to ask you."

Ginny pushed herself into being polite and friendly. "What's that, Frank?"

"You have anybody special in your life?"

"There was once," she answered wistfully, then forced herself into a lie. "Not anymore."

"You got room for someone new?"

"Are you askin' for yourself?" Ginny, of course, already knew what Frank had in mind. But she had to lead him down the road she wanted him to travel, and she did just that.

"Yes, ma'am. You mean . . . you mean a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to me, too, Frank." She tried to gaze romantically into his eyes; all she could think of were the missing girls. Still, she made Carson believe her.

"We can take this as slow as you want, Sammi. As long as I know you care for me." It sounded like Frank wanted to be sure where he stood with the redhead before he sent Mae off to wherever the women were sent off to.

"I do, Frank. I care a great deal."

"Can I call you my girl?" Frank was hopeful, she could hear it in his voice. She took the bit in her mouth and ran with it.

"Only if I can call you my man." He kissed her again and made her stomach turn over. "I have to go get changed, Frank. I'll be back down in a few minutes." She hurried inside and up the steps to her room, fighting to keep her dinner where it belonged. Within two or three minutes she lost the fight, and spent the next ten minutes with the chamber pot. She washed her face in the bowl of water kept on her dresser and felt better, even if she had just vomited up her dinner. _'Better get this over with fast, Malone,'_ she thought to herself. She wound her hair up on top of her head and changed from the long black dress into something more appropriate for the saloon, then locked her door and went down the hall to Mae's room.

"You need anything?" she asked once inside the room. Mae looked brighter than she had earlier in the day.

"A brand new life," Mae suggested, and Ginny nodded.

"You may have one of those quicker than you think."

"You know who killed Grant?" There was a hopeful note in Mae's voice.

"I think so. Make sure you stay put tonight, no matter who comes knockin' at your door. With any luck you'll be outta here tomorrow."

"Your lips to God's ears. And Sammi, thanks again."

Ginny squeezed her hand. "You're welcome."

Almost an hour later Ginny was downstairs, smiling at Frank when necessary and trying to keep track of him and Bea at all times. Around nine o'clock Tom Springer came in and let it be known he was looking for Sammi Jo so he could check on Mae. He got a shot of whiskey and a cup of coffee from Will and found an empty table. Within a few minutes Ginny was able to break away from the banker she was listening to and join the marshal at his table. He pushed the coffee over to her. "How's Mae doin'?"

"Better than I expected," Ginny told him. "I told her she'd be out of there soon."

"You found out something," he stated, and she nodded.

"I found out a lot of somethings," and she relayed as much of this morning's conversation to him as she could remember. When she was finished, he sat back staring at her.

"Frank and Beatrice, huh? That's a hell of a pair. What's the next step?"

Ginny almost laughed. "Proof. Can you meet me behind the livery at eleven o'clock? We can be at Frank's cabin before they get there."

"I can. But how are you gonna get out? Won't Frank be watchin' you?"

"Probably, but I've got a key to the back door. I'm gonna make him think Mae's sick and I have to stay up there with her. I'll just have to take my chances. You better go, marshal."

Loud enough that he could be heard, Springer got up and told her, "Sorry to hear that Mae don't feel well. Thanks for the report and the help, Sammi Jo. I'll be by in the mornin' to check again."

"You're welcome, marshal. I'll see you then."

Ginny left the table as Springer went out the batwing doors. She headed upstairs, ostensibly to check on Mae, and came back in just a few minutes with bad news. "She's sick, Frank, and runnin' a fever. I'm gonna go upstairs in a while and stay with her. Will you be goin' home soon?"

"By midnight, honey. You take care of yourself, alright? I'll see you in the mornin'."

Ginny leaned over the bar and kissed Frank on the cheek. "I'll be here," she told him, and ran for the stairs. She went straight to Mae's room and stayed until a few minutes before eleven o'clock. "Remember, don't let anybody come in. You're supposed to be sick and running a fever. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Good luck," Mae told her, and Ginny hurried back to her room and changed clothes. She snuck back down the staircase and got to the liquor supply room before anyone saw her; then straight to the livery where she found her horse saddled and ready to go, courtesy of Tom Springer.

"Follow me," she told him, and headed south towards Frank's cabin. Thirty minutes later they'd hidden their horses and were entrenched at the back of the structure. "Now we wait," and it wasn't long before they heard horses approaching. Soon the sound of Frank's voice reached them.

"You look like you're in a better mood than this morning."

Ginny and Tom could hear Bea's voice but couldn't make out the words. From their hiding place at the rear of the little house, they watched the front door open; first Frank, then Beatrice entered. Frank lit a lamp, and Bea sat down in the nearest chair. It was a minute or two before anything was said.

"I heard from Sebastian today. He wants to know when we're sending Mae out to him. He's already got a place lined up for her."

"No reason we can't get her out of the saloon tomorrow. That means she'll be on her way to Frisco the next day."

"Good. He's most anxious to send her to the Frisco Belle." So that's where Mae was going – the most exclusive brothel in San Francisco. No doubt the missing women had all gone to one parlor house or another.

"My, my, my – deluxe accommodations for our Mae. She ought to turn a pretty penny there." Frank laughed a bit, an evil sound. Ginny couldn't believe this man actually had feelings of any kind – much less feelings for her. "So we are agreed that Sammi Jo stays right here with me."

Beatrice nodded. "As long as you can get Mae out of Lil's. Let's hear this grand plan you've got."

"Liquor delivery comes tomorrow. All I have to do is get Mae into the storage room and Charlie, the delivery driver, will help me get her out. He's done jobs for us before."

"Just how are you gonna get her out of her room?"

"That's the easy part. Red keeps the girl's room keys and the liquor key on the same ring. He'll give 'em to me in the mornin' so I'll be ready when Charlie gets there with the delivery."

"And what if Miss-Nosy-Redhead gets in the way?"

"She won't," Frank replied. "She's helpin' Red pick out new drapes and rugs for the front of the saloon down at the supply house. She'll be gone all mornin'."

"Good work, partner. How'd you swing that?"

A chuckle from the bartender. "I didn't. Red asked her all by himself."

"I think Red's got a crush on Sammi Jo." Bea giggled.

"Let him. She's mine."

"Wrong," Ginny whispered.

"So what time is Charlie deliverin' the liquor?"

"Right after ten o'clock. Just about the time that Red and Sammi go to the supply house."

"Good. Mae'll be long gone by the time they get back."

"Beatrice . . . "

"Yes, Frank?"

"Bout time for you to find somebody else."

"Why is that, Mr. Carson? You ain't serious about settlin' down with the redhead, are you? And leave me to get a new partner?" The words were teasing, the tone was not.

"I am serious. I told you a long time ago if I ever found the right woman . . . "

"How do you know she's the right one?"

"I know."

"You gonna give me some time before you buy that horse ranch?"

"You bet. Sammi Jo ain't quite ready just yet."

Ginny pulled the marshal away from the window and deeper into the trees. "You heard enough?"

Springer nodded. "I sure have. You know we gotta catch Frank in the act tomorrow, don't you?"

"That won't be a problem. I'll have to tell Red what's goin' on. I can leave with him in the morning and circle back around. Meet me outside the storage room at ten-fifteen. And make sure you've got men in the back alley, in case we run into trouble." She paused before continuing. "You know what the Frisco Belle is?"

"A high-class whorehouse?"

The Pinkerton agent nodded. "They're slave traders. They kidnap innocent victims and ship them off to a life of forced prostitution. They've gotta be stopped."

"They will be. I never woulda believed it if I hadn't heard it for myself." They began to make their way towards the horses. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Who are you, really?"

Ginny had to suppress a laugh. "That's a fair question, Springer. I'm Captain Ginny Malone of Pinkerton."

The marshal stuck out his hand and they shook. "Glad to meet you, Malone."

"You, too, marshal."

Morning couldn't come soon enough.


	17. Hell Arrives

Chapter 17 – Hell Arrives

"You don't look surprised."

Ginny had just told Red Mitchell that the girl who'd worked for him for almost six weeks wasn't Sammi Jo Withers. She'd expected a bigger reaction than she got.

"I figured you weren't just a saloon girl a while back. Federal Marshal?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Pinkerton. Ginny Malone. Sorry I didn't tell you the truth, Red, but I couldn't afford to take any chances. Now I need your help."

"The disappearing girls?"

"Yep. They've been sent to San Francisco to be . . . whores."

"Without their consent, I assume?" This time Ginny nodded. "Who's involved?"

"Frank . . . and Beatrice."

"Damn." Red sat very still for more than two minutes before speaking again. His voice was angry . . . and hurt at the same time. "Frank. I trusted him completely. And Bea. How could Bea do that to other women?"

Ginny's tone was quiet and calm; she tried to give Red any comfort that she could. "They had everybody fooled for a long time. You can't blame yourself, Red. You had no way of knowing."

He shifted in his chair before looking back up at her. "What do you need me to do?"

"Put the key to Mae's room on the ring with the other keys, and make sure the liquor storage room key is on there, too. Give Frank the keys when he asks for them; after we leave I'll circle around back and meet Tom Springer. When Frank and Charlie bring Mae outside we'll swoop in and get 'em. Then we can come inside for Beatrice. Sorry, Red, but you're gonna need some new employees."

Red laughed grimly. "It'll be a pleasure to replace those two. You, not so much."

Malone couldn't help but chuckle. "I should be easy to replace."

"The saloon girl, probably. The friend, no."

"You've got a good set-up here, Red, and you treat your people fair. Once this kidnapping ring is broken up you shouldn't have any trouble gettin' quality folks to work for you."

"I hope Mae wants to stay here."

"I think she will. I gotta go talk to her; I'll be back down before ten. Just hang in there, it'll all be over soon."

Ginny left Red's office and headed upstairs, then down the hall to Mae's room. She knocked and then unlocked the door. Mae was standing at the window, staring outside wistfully.

"Another day, just like yesterday."

"Not exactly, Mae. Sit down, I've got a lot to tell you."

A few minutes later Mae was shaking her head. "Frank and Bea. I never would have believed it. Frank was so good to me after I was shot. And he's gonna try to send me where?"

"San Francisco. Don't give 'em any trouble today. Don't fight, or argue, or try to get away. As far as you know, they're just gonna break you outta here. I don't want you gettin' hurt. And neither does Red."

"Does Red know about Frank and Bea?"

"He does. And he's gonna need somebody to help him get over his broken heart." Ginny stood up and headed for the door. "I gotta go. Sit tight and act surprised, and remember, do whatever they want you to do."

"Yes, ma'am. When this is all over, will you tell me who you really are?"

"I promise to do that."

Ginny headed back down the hall. It was almost time for the beginning of the end.

XXXXXXXX

"We'll be in Kansas City sometime tonight." That was the first thing either of the Mavericks had said since late morning.

"Mmm-hmm."

"You okay with that?" Bart asked his brother.

"Mmm-hmm."

"You in there somewhere?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Bret had been quiet and withdrawn ever since Bart attempted to make him see the benefits of loving and being loved by a certain Pinkerton agent. What there was to mull over was beyond Bart Maverick's comprehension; he had a woman of his own, Doralice Donovan, waiting for him back in Texas. He'd conveniently forgotten that he fought the feelings of love for her to begin with, just like Bret had. Bart had finally come to accept both his love for her and hers for him, and he couldn't imagine being without it. Surely his brother could learn to do the same.

"Kansas City. We're almost there."

"Oh, yeah. Sleepin' in a bed will be a good thing."

"What about you and Ginny?"

"What about us?"

"You feelin' any better about seein' her?"

Bret sighed. "I guess. Some. Still don't know what I'm gonna say to her."

"How about 'I was a horses' ass'?"

"I'm sure she'd agree with me."

"Well, that's a start, at least."

Bret chuckled. "You do have a way with words, Brother Bart."

"I don't think you hafta worry about what to say to her, Bret. Matter of fact, I don't think there'll be much talkin' involved."

"You're probably right. Say, I wanna know somethin'." Bart glanced at his brother; Bret's expression was serious. "When did you get to be so smart?"

The younger brother laughed before he answered. "When you weren't lookin'."

XXXXXXXX

Red and Ginny headed out the door a few minutes after ten and Frank watched them go. He couldn't believe how much his life had changed in the past six weeks; ever since Sammi Jo came to Lil's. He was almost lost in his revelations when he realized what time it was and hurried to open the back door for the liquor delivery – and other things.

He and Charlie unloaded the supplies in just a few minutes. With Alfie still serving breakfast in the dining room, Frank quickly ran upstairs to unlock Mae's door. "Mae, girl, we're gettin' you outta here. C'mon with me, now."

"But Frank, I . . . "

"C'mon, you don't wanna hang for somethin' you didn't do, right? I can get you outta Kansas City and give Springer time to find the real killer. At least you'll be safe – and alive."

Mae nodded. "You have a point. I'm ready."

They crept back down the staircase and into the storage room; Charlie put a hat on Mae's head, wrapped her in a blanket, and started out the back door of the saloon with her. And that's when all hell broke loose.


	18. The Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 18 – The Unexpected Visitor

Charlie was trying to hurry Mae into the wagon and wasn't having a lot of luck, so Frank walked out back to help. Just about the time he did that, Deputy Cooper shifted positions and the sunlight glinted off his rifle. Frank saw the flash and pulled the Colt he had tucked into the back of his pants. Quicker than you could say "oops," the battle had begun.

Charlie pushed Mae to the ground and started shooting. So did Tom Springer, the aforementioned deputy, and Ginny Malone. Mae slithered under the wagon and tried to edge out the other side without getting shot. "Stay there, Mae!" Ginny yelled, and Frank was stunned to hear a familiar voice.

"Sammi Jo?" he called, but the answer he got wasn't what he expected.

"Guess again, Carson!" Ginny yelled, and in that instant the bartender knew he'd been betrayed.

"Why you . . . "

Charlie raised his head and caught a bullet in the throat. Mae wiggled a little further out into the unprotected dirt and Malone ran out from behind the building on the other side of the alley to pull her to safety; just as she got Mae on her feet a bullet ripped into her left shoulder and Malone dropped to the ground. Rolling under the wagon as Mae ran for cover, Ginny had a clear view of Frank. His face was twisted with rage and he raised his gun for another shot, but before he could pull the trigger the Pinkerton agent put a bullet in his chest.

Shock, surprise, and regret flashed across his face, and all three turned to pain as he fell. He kept his grip on the gun and managed to lock eyes with Ginny as he hit the ground. "Sammi Jo . . . I loved you. . ." he struggled to say while raising the Colt one more time. Ginny fired again, and he lay still.

The first one through the door was Beatrice, and she dropped to her knees as soon as she saw Frank lying in the dirt. "Frank, oh Frank," she began to cry as she reached out and touched his lifeless body.

"Hold it right there, Beatrice," Marshal Springer yelled as he came around the corner. "Malone, how bad you hurt?"

Ginny managed to drag herself out from under the wagon. "I'll live, unlike our friend here." She staggered to her feet and holstered her gun. "Where's Mae?"

"I'm here," called a voice from behind the building. Mae emerged unscathed, with the blanket still wrapped around her and the deputy marshal trailing behind her like a new puppy.

"Malone?" Bea blubbered through her tears. "Not Sammi Jo?"

"That's right, Bea. Captain Ginny Malone of the Pinkerton Detective Agency." Ginny took two steps towards Beatrice and staggered into the marshal, who caught her and prevented her collapse.

"Let's get you to the doctor before you bleed to death. Cooper, get this one in handcuffs and take her down to the jail. Mae, you come with us. I wanna make sure Doc gives you a clean bill of health."

"Yes, sir," Mae responded, as she helped hold Ginny upright. "Ginny Malone, huh?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"And don't you forget it," Ginny responded.

XXXXXXXX

An hour later Doc Whiteside was finishing treatment of Malone's left shoulder. She was lucky; the bullet was a through and through and required only six stitches. Both Mae and Marshal Springer stayed with her until the bandaging was completed. Next Doc Whiteside did a thorough check on Mae and gave her a clean bill of health. When he was finished the three made their way down to the jail.

Beatrice was already behind bars, in the same cell Mae had occupied. There would be no reprieve for the slave trader, no being moved to a more comfortable environment. There was nothing in Bea's future but prison . . . or the rope.

"Who killed Grant Milton?" Springer asked Ginny.

"Frank more or less admitted it. It's a shame he can't hang for it."

"Poor Grant. What did he do to deserve that?" Mae was free but once again alone.

"Far as I can tell, nothing. Frank never did say why he did it."

"Maybe I can find out from Bea," Springer suggested as he walked over to her cell. "Beatrice, I know that Frank killed Grant Milton. What I don't know is why."

"Why do you care?" the woman behind bars asked.

"I care," Mae replied. "I loved him, Bea, just like you loved Frank." Bea seemed surprised that Mae was aware of her secret. "I wanna know why."

Beatrice gave it some thought before answering. "Because of you. Frank knew about the ring and the proposal. He knew we'd lose a lot of money if we couldn't send either you or Sammi to Frisco. And if Grant married you Frank would have to give up Sammi Jo. So he chose the easy way out."

Mae turned her back on Bea and walked over to where Ginny sat. The Pinkerton agent looked at the saloon girl and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Mae."

"Not anything to be done about it, Sammi . . . uh, Ginny. How much does Red know about all this?"

"He knows everything. I had to tell him to make it all work."

"Malone, you better get back to Lil's and get your things cleared outta there. We'll get you a room at the Kansas Star Hotel and then be down to help you pack. You heard what Doc Whiteside said about gettin' some rest." Springer turned to his deputy. "Cooper, go get a room at the hotel for Captain Malone. The best one they got. And charge it to this office."

"I'll go back to Lil's with you," Mae volunteered.

"Thanks. I could use some help."

A few minutes later they walked through the batwing doors of Diamond Lil's. _'Funny,'_ Ginny thought _. 'It looks so different than it used to.'_ The first time she'd walked in Frank was behind the bar. Now it was Alfie.

"Miss Sammi . . . I mean . . . I don't know what to call you."

"Ginny. Ginny'll do just fine, Alfie."

"Miss Ginny . . . Red's in his office. He wants to see you, if you've got time."

Ginny nodded and went straight back to the office marked 'Manager – Private.' Mae followed her. Malone knocked on the door and heard, "Come In."

Red was sitting behind the desk, looking very much like he had the first time the agent saw him. And he stood up, just as he had that first day. "Ginny, Mae, sit down. Sorry to see you got hurt. Not bad, I hope."

"Nope, it'll be fine. I see Alfie's behind the bar. Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yes, ma'am. Alfie's waited long enough to earn the job. And I know he won't try to shanghai any of my girls. Will's gonna take over at night and Harry's comin' on full time."

"No more breakfasts from Alfie?" Mae sounded distraught.

"I've got that taken care of. Alfie's gonna teach Harry to cook the girls breakfast; he'll be Alfie's second man on days. Mae, I need somebody to ride herd on the ladies. If you're gonna stay, I'd like you to do that."

"As long as I don't hafta take over everything Bea did."

"Meaning?"

"I ain't takin' no cowboys up to my room. I'm not . . . I'm a one man woman without a man, and I'm gonna stay that way . . . until the right man comes along."

"That's my cue to leave," Ginny proclaimed. "I've got packing to do."

"Uh-uh. I'll pack for you. It's the least I can do." Mae hurried out of the office, and the sound of her running up the stairs could be heard.

"Where are you goin' for now?" Red asked.

"The Kansas Star Hotel, according to the marshal."

"Then I'll walk you down there. Just in case that shoulder starts botherin' you."

"I can't think of a better escort."

Mitchell stood and helped Ginny out of her chair. They ambled slowly, deliberately, across the floor of Diamond Lil's and out the batwing doors, then down the boardwalk until they reached the hotel. Cooper had gotten Ginny quite a room, and Red made sure she had everything she needed and was settled in before he left.

Ginny's intent was to lie down and nap; she hadn't gotten much sleep last night and with the injured shoulder, she was just plain worn out. She had no idea how long she slept, but she woke to the sound of knocking on her door. She assumed it was Mae and got up to let her in, pulling the door open carefully with her right hand. But it wasn't Mae Templeton standing at her door. It was someone she didn't expect to see. Bret Maverick.

TBC


	19. Explanations are in Order

Chapter 19 – Explanations are in Order

"You're hurt." Those were the first words out of Bret's mouth, as soon as he saw the bandaged left shoulder.

"Got shot this morning when we wrapped up the case." Ginny stood aside and opened the door wider so that Bret could enter the room. Which he did, awkwardly. "When did you get here?"

"About an hour ago. Bart and me went straight to the marshal's office to see if he knew anything and I got quite a story from him."

"I'm surprised you didn't go right to Diamond Lil's." Ginny sat down gingerly on the bed; Bret took the chair next to it. "Where's your brother?"

"Downstairs gettin' us a room. He thought it would be best if I came up here alone."

"In case I threw you out?"

There was momentarily pain in Bret's eyes, but he answered truthfully. "In case."

Ginny's reply was as tender as she could make it sound. "I wouldn't do that to you."

The gambler cleared his throat. "Ginny, I . . . I want to tell you how wrong I was. I've got no right to ask you not to take assignments, or to try and persuade you what you should and shouldn't do. I . . . well, I just don't have any right."

The Pinkerton detective did a little throat clearing of her own. Then she leaned forward and took his hand in hers. "That's where you're wrong, Bret. You do have the right to ask me not to do things. But I have the right to turn you down. That's what we did; it's just that we went about it in the wrong way. You didn't see my side of things, and I didn't see yours. Both of them were valid."

"What does that mean for you and me?"

She let go of his hand and stood up, walking to the far side of the room and leaning against the window sill. "If you'd asked me that six weeks ago I couldn't have told you. But I've learned a lot since I've been here – part of which is how important you are to me. And I've had to learn some things the hard way." A sigh escaped her, and Bret could sense this wasn't easy for her to explain – or admit. "I killed a man this morning, a man that had fallen in love with Sammi Jo. An evil man inside, but a man that could be sweet and tender. A man that made me think of you every time I looked at him. A man that made me realize how much I loved you."

"Ginny – "

"No, let me finish. Shooting him was the right thing to do – he was trying to kill me. But before he died I saw the betrayal in his eyes, the hurt and the pain, and I never wanna see those things in your eyes. We're not always gonna agree – and we're not always gonna be together. I'll take assignments in places you can't go, and you'll want to do things in places I have no desire to see. We're not ready to spend our whole lives together yet. But we have to understand that just because we're not together doesn't mean we don't love each other, and that we each deserve courtesy and respect, no matter how much we disagree."

Bret crossed the room quickly and wrapped his arms around her. "I know. I had a lotta time to do nothin' but think. And I had a little brother chatterin' in my ear, makin' a whole lotta sense. He pointed out to me that I'd been a horse's ass. And he was right."

The woman in his arms turned to face him with a smile on her face. "But you're my horse's ass," she whispered, and reached up to kiss him.

XXXXXXXX

He held her carefully, with the right side of her body pressed next to his so as to not hurt the injured shoulder. He'd been tender and gentle, with a passion that amazed even her. She raised her head slightly and looked straight into those black, black eyes, and saw everything there that she hadn't seen in Frank's.

"You good?" he asked as his lips caressed her forehead.

"Better than good." It didn't matter how much the shoulder ached, she hadn't felt this content in weeks. "I missed you so much. And the way we parted . . . just made everything worse."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"I know," she offered. "I am too. But there's one thing you were right about."

"What's that?"

"How many times I had to say no."

She heard a small chuckle from him before he leaned his head down and kissed her, several times in succession. "Tell me about this Frank character."

"Not much to tell. He was a partner in the kidnapping operation and the head bartender at Lil's. And he wanted to marry Sammi Jo."

"Really? Marry her?"

"Yes, and raise horses and babies with her."

"What did Sammi tell him?" Bret was curious, to say the least.

"Sammi Jo allowed him to think that they could be together somewhere down the road. She had to, to make sure he didn't do something before he was supposed to."

"Did she kiss him? And if you don't wanna tell me you don't have to. I swear I'll understand."

"She kissed him once on the cheek; he kissed her twice on the lips. And after the second kiss she ran to her room and vomited up her dinner. And swore that she'd shoot him before she'd let him kiss her again." Ginny paused while she stared into those black eyes, but the expression in them never changed. There was none of the jealousy or rage she'd seen in Frank's. The only thing there was curiosity.

"Was it hard? Playin' saloon girl, I mean."

"Excruciating sometimes. Other times it was easy and fun; I've never laughed as hard as I did with some of the girls. It was tiring, too – most nights I fell into bed exhausted. It was an exhilarating experience, and I never wanna do it again."

"Anything good come out of it?" he whispered into her hair as he held her close.

"You mean besides catching the kidnappers? Yeah, I think I made a couple friends for life." She was thinking, of course, of Mae Templeton and Red Mitchell, an unlikely pair. Yet there was something about those two . . . Ginny had the feeling they'd come to depend heavily on each other. Maybe more, given enough time. Time to change the subject. She was tired of talking. "What about you? What were you doin' for so long in New Mexico?"

She felt him tense, and wondered just what it was he had to tell her. "I was . . . sittin' in a jail cell."

She had to know, because of the way he'd reacted to the question. "What for?" She was prepared for almost anything . . . except his answer.

"Murder."

XXXXXXXX

Bart had gotten them a room at the Kansas Star Hotel after Tom Springer explained that's where Ginny was now staying. Rather he'd gotten himself a room at the hotel, because he highly doubted that Bret would spend any time anywhere but in Ginny Malone's room. If he was as smart as Bart thought he was.

He arranged for a bath, then took their belongings to room three twenty-four. He hung up his clothes, followed by his brother's – there was no sense leaving them in Bret's bag, they might never see the light of day as long as the Mavericks were in Kansas City.

He felt much better after the bath, and soon found himself snuggled under the covers in bed. He dreamt, but it was a pleasant dream, one of the beautiful blonde woman that he loved, and when he woke he dressed and went straight to the telegraph office _. 'Doralice – Arrived in Kansas City. Coming home as quickly as I can manage it. Can't wait to . . . see you. Bart.'_

He stopped at a place called the Cattlemen's Club and had supper, then wandered on down to Diamond Lil's. He'd heard stories about the size of the place, but the stories didn't do the saloon justice. So this was where Beauty had spent the last six weeks of her life. It took all of about five minutes for a tall, long-haired blonde to approach him, and he asked for the manager's office. Five minutes after that he was sharing a cup of coffee with Red Mitchell.

"So you're a friend of Ginny's," Red remarked, while giving the man in front of him the once-over. Tall, slender, more good-looking than any man had a right to be, Red was curious how close a 'friend' Maverick really was.

Bart had seen that look before, on the face of almost every man that had caught a glimpse of Ginny Malone. The man had a serious crush on Beauty. "It ain't me you have to worry about, Mr. Mitchell. Agent Malone is in love with my brother."

' _Good grief,'_ thought Red, _'there's another one of them? What does he look like?' "_ Ah," he said out loud. "I see. We only knew her as Sammi Jo . . . not as Ginny, so we don't know much about the real person. She always seemed kinda sad and wistful. That explains a lot. Bein' separated from somebody real important to you, and pretendin' to be somebody else, has got to be hard."

"Well, they're together now. I just wanted to come down and see the saloon for myself. Ginny's a real important person in our lives, and she spent a lotta time here. I'm glad she had a friend like you she could depend on." Bart stood and offered his hand to Mitchell; Red took it.

"You two take real good care of her."

"We will, Mr. Mitchell, we will." Bart walked back out through the saloon, out the batwing doors and back to the hotel. The door to Ginny's room was still closed and no sounds were coming from inside, so Bart went back to room three twenty-four and settled in for the night. He smiled as he fell asleep, content in the knowledge that the gambler and the detective's reunion had gone as well as he'd hoped for.

XXXXXXXX

"Murder? Who are you supposed to have murdered?"

Ginny was calm, considering what Bret had just told her. She leaned up against him on her right elbow and watched his face. He looked relieved that she hadn't made more of an issue out of his revelation.

"A card cheat named Danny Fletcher."

"Ah-ha. And how long were you there? In jail, I mean."

"Several weeks. Bart found the real murderer and got me out."

Ginny smirked. "Good old Brother Bart. Nice of him to do that before they hanged you for it."

"I thought so."

Nothing was said for a good ten minutes while Ginny digested this latest piece of information. "That must be where you did all your thinking."

"It was. Wasn't anything else to do there."

"Nice to know I kept your head busy."

Bret looked into the laughing blue eyes that stared at him. "That wasn't the only thing you kept busy."

"So now what? You escaped a murder charge, I stopped a kidnapping ring, and Bart? What did poor Bart do?"

"Got me out of jail."

"In other words, saved your sorry hide."

"True. I was thinkin' . . . "

"Yes?" the redhead asked as she traced lines up and down his face with her fingers.

"I was thinkin' we could escort him back to Little Bend. If Arthur don't have anything pressing for you."

"Are you sure he wants to go back to Little Bend right now?"

Bret finally sat up in bed, pulling the woman gently with him. "I'm sure. There was somethin' pretty important goin' on between him and Doralice when I sent for him. I owe him my life, Ginny. The least I can do is get him back to his woman."

"Like the way he got you back to yours?"

"Yes, ma'am. just like that."

"When do we leave?"

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her mouth, a deep, hungry kiss. "Not right now."

The End


End file.
